


Bound

by Bronte



Series: Masquerade [3]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Engagement, F/M, Fluff, Light Dom/sub, Lila Rossi Lies, Marriage Proposal, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Magic Reveal, Relationships are hard work, Romance, Sex Toys, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 00:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22423039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bronte/pseuds/Bronte
Summary: Marinette turns around to grab another box and drinks him in, the sharp line of his jaw, his shaggy unbrushed hair made even brighter as he strikes a beam of setting sunlight flooding through their balcony doors. He’s been through so much only to come out kinder, and Marinette can hardly stand the way he steals her breath away at the realisation of how far they’d come.So it should be fairly obvious that they should get engaged, get married and start a family. They’re happy, in love, employed...everything is going right, so what’s holding her back?Like a warning, her Miraculous grows warm against her ears.The third and final installment of the Masquerade Trilogy.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Masquerade [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/833478
Comments: 357
Kudos: 502





	1. Change

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back to the Masqueverse everyone! 
> 
> Last time I left you hanging on the edge of your seats in Safeword, Lila had just found herself a sparkly new friend to wreak havoc with. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at how I manage her diabolical return to splendor! For the meantime though, I have to warm us up for what's going to be a hell of a story. Strap in and sit tight; it's going to be a bumpy ride!

_ Three years later… _

Things had changed, inevitably, as things tend to do. Marinette often wonders where the time has gone, specifically when there’s a deadline at work approaching, but just in general as well. Life is moving fast; in just a few short years, Marinette had graduated from the Fashion Institute at the top of her class (and with more shining letters of recommendation than any of her peers!), which made those next months an absolute flurry of insanity as various fashion houses actually fought over her internships. Convincing her parents to move into Adrien’s studio apartment in  _ Faubourg Saint-Honoré  _ had required Chloé’s level of law expertise, and after a very persuasive Google Slides presentation, she’d finally been able to move into the heart of the fashion district so she could hop from one job to another. From  _ Balmain _ to  _ Lanvin _ and  _ Balenciaga _ to  _ Hermès _ , Marinette had observed and accomplished enough in the year after her graduation to make her head explode with new techniques and amazing designs of her own, which was why she was so thrilled to announce to all her friends that she had  _ finally _ found the perfect position as a full time Junior Designer just three months after her internship year had ended.

But today is Sunday.

And Sundays, according to Adrien, are for  _ lazing. _

“Hey Bug?”

“Hmm?” Marinette stretches luxuriously, soaking up the mid morning sun as it pours in through the floor to ceiling windows on her bare skin.

“How long have we been together?”

“As superheroes? Uh...eight years?”

“That long?” Adrien remarks, grazing his eyes along her thighs as they peek out from beneath the covers, the silk sheets of their bed draping over her curves like a Renaissance painter’s wet dream, “And as a couple?”

“Depends on your definition,” Marinette tips her chin towards him, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she lies on her belly, “We first had sex when we were seventeen.”

Adrien reaches out, tangling his fingers with hers as she props herself up onto her elbows, her breasts pressing into the sheets, “That was the heat though. You didn't even admit that you loved me until years later.”

“Months,” she corrects him with  _ The Look _ , “It was months later, not years.”

“Well, it felt like years,” Adrien tucks his other hand behind his head, “And what a hell of a year that was.”

Marinette knows a sensitive subject when she sees it, “Nevermind that, why are you asking?”

“Just cause,” he responds, shrugging his shoulders languidly as he turns his attentions to the plaster ceiling above their bed, “Things in our lives are pretty stable now, right?”

“Yes...” Marinette narrows her eyes, wondering what he’s getting at.

“And you’re done school and you have a job now, not to mention the little side project you and I are working on,” he continues to ramble, “And I have the Agreste Foundation, which doesn’t take up too much of my time now that it’s established, and Chat Noir hardly needs to make an appearance beyond the odd dispatch call and hospital visit…”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I just...I just thought maybe it’s time to do something? You know, different? A change?”

“A change?” Marinette’s still not following, “Like a change of scenery? Because we’re going on vacation in Saint-Tropez soon.”

“Well, I don’t mean that kind of change,” Adrien’s lips pull into a thoughtful pout, “Although it’ll be nice to finally catch up with Chloé again. I haven’t seen her since the brain tumour fundraiser.”

“I saw her at a rally on my way to work last week,” Marinette swishes her feet back and forth beneath the sheets, “She’s pulling out all the stops for her father’s re-election.”

Adrien hums, “Her Instagram ads are relentless.”

“She’d take that as a compliment.”

“I know,” Adrien smiles, “And that’s why I haven’t said anything. If I did, she’d probably just buy more engagement credits and we’d never stop seeing her face all over Paris.”

“I liked it better when it was  _ your _ face plastered to every bus stop and billboard,” Marinette murmurs, snuggling closer to his side.

“My child modelling days are long over,” Adrien shakes his head and pats his stomach, “I don’t want Nadia Chamack putting my dad bod on blast.”

“Oh my god,” Marinette groans, slapping him on the shoulder, “For the last time, Adrien, you do  _ not _ have a dad bod.”

“Yes I do. I used to be  _ chiseled.” _

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d be stuck to the back of her skull, “So what? We both aren’t as active as we used to be now that supervillains aren’t wreaking havoc on Paris every other minute.”

“Easy for you to say,” Adrien grumbles, “You’re a  _ goddess _ . You’re still in perfect shape.”

“That’s because I literally had to run across three arrondissements twice a day for a year to make it to my internships on time,” Marinette replies, “But now that I finally have a normal job, things will be easier.”

“I can’t wait to actually spend time with you again,” Adrien grazes his fingertips across her bare arm, “Remember when our heats hit last year and you only had ten minutes before you had to get to the  _ Galerie Vivienne _ so we had sex and ate dinner at the same time?”

“Don’t remind me,” Marinette shakes her head, “I spent all weekend trying to get the marinara stains out of my lingerie.”

“I think we even had sex while you were scrubbing in the OxyClean.”

Marinette snorts, “God, last year was such a mess.”

“A mess that I’m glad to see over with. Three cheers to finally having a steady job!”

He holds up an imaginary flute of champagne and she giggles, tapping the air with her own invisible drink, “Thank you for putting up with it all. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“It was worth every argument and rushed handjob,” Adrien snickers, pressing a sloppy kiss against her cheek, “You know I would do anything for you, no matter how crazy it is.”

“That still doesn’t mean I’m not sorry,” she buries her face in his chest and sighs, “What we went through together wasn’t easy. Or fair. Or anything other than horrible.”

“And I’ve already told you a million times, I forgive you,” Adrien presses a kiss to the crown of her head and languishes in the intimacy between them, “Holding down the fort, packing you lunches every morning and feeding you dinner every night? That was nothing.”

“I’m just glad your cooking skills have improved,” Marinette smiles against his skin, “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

“Anything for you, Bug,” Adrien promises, “Which brings me back to what I was saying before. I think it’s time we changed things up.”

“What do you mean?” Marinette’s brows furrow, “Wait, is this about our apartment again? Because I already told you, we can go looking for another one when the lease is up at the beginning of February. I know how much you hate the low ceilings—”

“I don’t just want a better apartment,” he insists, “I want a bigger one. Somewhere that’s halfway between your work and the hospital. Somewhere near a school.”

“A school? Why do we need to be near a school?”

“For the future,” Adrien says as if it were obvious, “You know, when we decide to have kids.”

_ “Oh.” _


	2. Roller Coaster Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the warm welcome! I'm glad you guys enjoyed the prologue but now, we will get right into the plot by exploring the last few years. Heavy with flashbacks and foreshadowing (and aaannnngst), I need to get you all up to speed on where our character's heads are at before the real fun begins.
> 
> For reference, Safeword ended three years ago exactly from the current events of Bound.   
> Year 1: Safeword ended in January, Marinette finished her 1st year of fashion school and started her second.  
> Year 2: Marinette finished her second (and final) year of fashion school and started her year of professional internships (an unofficial "third" year of school).  
> Year 3: Marinette finished her year of professional internships and snagged a real job in November. It is now January again.

Kids.

When Marinette thinks of kids, she thinks of babysitting. She thinks of Manon and Etta and Ella. She thinks of her childhood fantasies scribbled in ancient diaries where she and Adrien grow up and live in a four bedroom, three bathroom penthouse apartment in the heart of Paris with three children and a hamster.

And at the time, she loved the thought of it.

But now?

Marinette sighs and pulls out her mobile. Adrien has always been a sucker for the little ones, whether it’s on the streets of Paris as Adrien or at the Hospital for Sick Children as Chat Noir. In his element, Marinette thinks he probably spends more time kissing babies and playing with toddlers than he does on his charitable organisation, not that it’s suffering by any means. He’s always had a knack for business — the only good thing he’d inherited from his incarcerated father — and the paycheque he pulls in every year is enough to attest to that, which suits them both just fine. Adrien is finally happy and healthy and no longer living beneath the butterfly shaped shadow of his disgraced patriarch; things on his end are good.

But Marinette’s end? Not so much.

Especially not right now.

She’s sitting in the doctor’s office and no amount of scrolling through Instagram can put her mind at ease, her stomach fluttering with nervousness at the very thought of what she’s about to tell her doctor. Or is she? She still hasn’t decided yet, despite everything in her life telling her she's ready to take the next step with the love of her life. God, is she  _ really _ ready for this? Is she ready for any big changes when there are still two missing Miraculouses out there, just waiting to spring up at any time? 

Sitting here, she's already regretting booking this appointment. Why is she thinking about kids when they’re not even married yet, which is another stipulation she’d put on him. Why is she always the one holding back these days? Stereotypically, isn’t that the man’s job? Adrien has been waxing poetic for years over the engagement ring he's going to buy her and the wedding they're going to have; he’d even shared his dream wedding board on Pinterest with her, which...really Adrien?  _ Really? _ He's been hinting like hell, especially lately, and she’s been refusing to budge because…

Well, she can't exactly tell him why. He wouldn't take it very well, all things considered. 

Marinette sighs; she was supposed to be  _ beyond _ all this. They’d been through so many ups and downs together...logically, this was the next step in their lives. So why was moving on proving to be so hard?

Three years ago when she had won the design contest at the Fashion Institute, she’d made every excuse in the book to keep Adrien off her back and away from the real reason she was afraid of taking the next step forwards. Her course load was insane, and Mme Sotnikova had started inviting her everywhere after making a name for herself during Milan Fashion Week with her Spring/Summer Prêt-à-Porter floral pantsuits. By the time the semester ended, she’d been to New York City and London as Mme Sotnikova’s junior apprentice and had still managed to pass all of her classes with flying colours.

Professionally, her life was rocketing into the stratosphere. 

But personally, her relationship with Adrien had never been so…

Well, it was kind of like a roller coaster ride.

The heat had never hit them harder than it had that first spring as a fashion student, and with her jet setting across seas and continents on a regular basis, they had both been forced to find alternative ways to deal with their raging hormones. Long distance messages meant that Marinette’s mobile phone bill was astronomically expensive and everytime she came home to Paris, the need to scratch their itch became even more unbearable. Failing to submit an essay on time for her History of Design course had been the straw that broke the camel’s back and after a blowout so fierce that neither of them spoke to each other for an entire day, they met up as their alter egos and thrashed each other in a sparring session so rife with sexual tension that the news of their lover’s spat had trended for over a week.

Between the desperate quickies and the chaos of their messy lives, their relationship began to fray a little at the edges. She saw him at his worst again, except this time his contempt was aimed at the fact that she was valuing her career over their relationship. He would later apologize, knowing full well that it was just the hormones of their heat talking, but he still had a point; she had prioritized school above everything and Marinette, also fuelled by raging hormones, gave him an ultimatum.

“This is what I’ve always wanted to do with my life,” she’d said to him that fateful afternoon, her stress levels at an ultimate high, “And if you can’t accept that, then you’ll just have to…”

She never finished her sentence, but it was enough. He’d become so much better at handling his intense emotions since attending therapy and she’d just steamrolled through them with all the grace of an angry akuma. She should have known better than to say something like that to him, or to anyone for that matter...she still remembers how the look on his face, all upturned eyebrows and watering eyes, was enough to break her heart.

They were still learning how to love each other then. 

(They’re still learning now.)

And back in the doctor’s office, she ducks her chin to her chest and tries to fight off the wave of humiliation she still feels about it to this day.

Trials and tribulations had always been their thing, but as the spring turned to summer and her various Fashion Institute organised internships turned into serious summertime gigs, Marinette welcomed the apologetic, dutiful boyfriend who brought her flowers and took her out to dinner whenever she could find a moment to spare him. That blazing fire that had burned inside of him during their tumultuous spring together had all but withered to a handful of embers, and at the time, she'd hardly noticed because she was so busy. He catered to her every need and she basked in the comfort of it all, thankful that he was supporting her without her having to ask for it any longer. He wouldn’t argue anymore when she would cancel on him, but he didn’t exactly fight to organise another time either. By August, Marinette knew something was up with him, but the fall semester of her second and final year at the Fashion Institute was coming up and she didn’t have a thought to spare when she still had to pack for four consecutive fashion weeks in a row.

He wasn’t able to wish her off at  _ Charles du Gaulle _ because of a charity function but she still stayed in touch with him whenever she could that September. She sent him snaps and DM’d him tons of pictures after she’d finished her last runway show in New York City and took selfies with Big Ben as she taxied through London in a cab. It was only when she was helping the team hem the couture designs for Milan Fashion Week that Chloé Bourgeois, of all people, stomped through the doors of the  _ Palazzo Serbelloni _ and dragged her by the stunned shoulders into a changeroom.

“Chloé? What are you doing he—”

“Listen up Dupain-Cheng,” Chloé had shoved her outstretched finger so far into her face that it practically went up her nose, “I am going to haul your brainless, skinny ass back to Paris right now if you don’t call my Adrichou and apologize for being such a  _ bitch!” _

Speechless, Marinette tried to grapple for control, “I’m sorry,  _ what?! _ ”

“What? You’re asking me—” Chloé cut herself off with a laugh that verged on hysterical, “Look, Adrien has been bending over backwards to support you and your fashion dreams and you just,  _ ugh! _ I am so sick and tired of him moping around feeling like he’s doing you a disservice by being alive! Utterly ridiculous! Like _ , _ are you  _ blind? _ This lovesick idiot, who is my very best friend and business partner, in case you forgot, doesn’t stop talking about how much he loves you and all the things he does for you — without complaint, by the way, which is the worst part — but like, what have you done for him lately? Besides take advantage of him, of course.”

Marinette paled, “Oh god...it’s not—”

“His birthday? It was yesterday, actually. Congratulations! You missed it.”

Mouth gaping like a goldfish, Marinette was fairly sure her soul exited her body for several seconds, “... _ merde. _ ”

“You really are utterly ridiculous,” Chloé scoffed, glaring at Marinette down her nose, “I know you’ve always been denser than 24 karat gold but really, I expected better from you.”

“I—”

“Look, I’m not going to teach you how to be a decent human being. That’s not my job, but of all the people out there who would shamelessly take advantage of Adrien’s trust and kindness, I didn’t expect it to be you.”

And with that, Chloé disappeared back out the doors of the palace in a cloud of self-righteousness and Chanel No. 5.

In the subsequent minutes and hours following Chloé’s outburst, a lot of things happened all at once. She called Adrien and apologized profusely but honestly, how could she have forgotten his birthday like that? She hadn’t even made him anything! She was basically the world’s worst girlfriend and it showed, resulting in one of the worst runway shows of her blossoming career. Mme Sotnikova nearly skinned her alive for letting her personal life affect her professional one and thoroughly chastised, Marinette was ordered back to Paris two days early to prepare for the final fashion week in her home city.

Suitcases in hand, Marinette didn’t even consider going to see her parents as she exited the train station. She gave her Uber the address to his apartment and resolved to make amends once and for all.

Adrien was on her in a heartbeat as she stepped in through his apartment doorway, except there was a desperation in his eyes that had nothing to do with the sex they never seemed to have anymore. He scrambled to make her coffee, skittering into his tiny galley kitchen like a nervous rabbit as the morning sun began to stream over the horizon. She filled the silence with as many words as she could push passed her tongue, and it was only then that Marinette got a good look at his apartment as a whole.

“Adrien?” she forced herself to broach the subject before she chickened out, “Are you alright?”

He poured her coffee into a beige bowl and handed it to her, the sleep-worn streaks of insomnia written in the lines around his eyes, “I’m so much better now that you’re here.”

“Me too,” Marinette tried to say, but it came out like a croak, “Can we talk about something?”

“S-sure!” he whipped around her, flinging all of the clothes and empty takeaway containers off of the couch. His apartment was a pig sty, but it was nothing that a few hours of cleaning couldn’t fix, and she sat down on the cushions beside him, wary of the despondent ring of red around his irises, “What do you want to talk about?”

About you, she wanted to say.

“Chloé came to visit me when I was in Milan.”

Adrien paled, “Oh god, I’m so sorry. She never should have—she wasn’t supposed to—” he’d grabbed his overgrown bangs between his fingers and tugged, “She wasn’t supposed to bother you!”

“It’s okay!” Marinette held him by the shoulders; she hadn’t seen him act like this since the trial of Gabriel Agreste, “It’s fine Adrien, it was no big deal.”

“But she interrupted your work! She—I’m—you’re too important for that!”

His statement made her pause, “No Adrien, I’m really not.”

If anything, her words seemed to be making things worse, “No, no, I mean, yes! Yes, you are! You’re—you’re everything to me and I need to, I need to support you!”

“Adrien—”

“No, no—” Adrien froze and grabbed his phone out of his pocket, flicking his thumb over the calendar, “Wait, weren’t you supposed to be...Marinette? Why are you home two days early?”

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, “I might have gotten kicked off the Milan team.”

“...you  _ what?! _ ”

“It doesn’t matter,” Marinette waved him off, “What matters is that I completely screwed up by forgetting about your birthday and just...forgetting about our relationship in general and it’s never going to happen again.”

"But—”

She grabbed his hands none too gently and felt the jagged edges of their relationship sink into her skin. They were young and they were stupid and they had so much more to discover about being in a relationship than she'd ever realised until this moment. If love was supposed to be the best thing that could ever happen to someone, then why was it so hard?

It occurred to her then, the answer right in front of her nose. His eyes were teary, his hair overgrown. He was trying to grow a patchy beard again and he smelled like he hadn't showered in a few days, the evidence made plainly obvious by the wrinkled pyjamas with mango chutney dribbled down the front. She wasn’t solely responsible for his mental health anymore than he was hers but how could she have forgotten his capacity for kindness without abandon? How could she have forgotten his desperate need to please the people in his life, to the point where he puts himself in last place?

Marinette had learned all about that lesson long ago; Luka’s friendship had taught her how to take care of herself and stop prioritizing other people over her own needs when she was a teenager and just learning how to grapple with her superhero and civilian responsibilities. He'd been her saving grace and she'd always held a special place in her heart for him, even though she hadn't seen him since he moved to Los Angeles to take the rock music scene by storm.

No, it was time for the student to become the teacher. It was time to take on another responsibility, one she would gladly shoulder the burden of. A love like they had was worth it and Marinette was willing to invest everything she could to try and save it.

"Look, Adrien," she squeezed his hands between hers and straightened her shoulders, determined to come off as confident as possible; she could be strong enough for the two of them if that's what it took, "I love you so much, but I...I just haven't been able to show you that as much as I should have been, and that's going to end today. We're gonna…" she trailed off, taking a shaky breath, "...we're going to get through this together."

He smiled and the sight of it set her heart on fire.

"Together?"

"Forever," she pressed her forehead to his, "Just you and I against the world."

_ “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, please go to Exam Room Three.” _

Fidgeting nervously, Marinette gets up and crosses the waiting room to make a beeline for the doors down the narrow hallway. She ducks into the third room and sits down on the chair anxiously, flitting through Instagram again before finally giving up and looking through her gallery instead. There’s so many silly photos of them, selfies and group shots with their friends at the bars, a few pictures of him that she’d edited for her Etsy shop online.  _ M _ was a little side project for her that Adrien had taken to eagerly and he frequently models her designs so long as his face is artfully edited out of the photos; so far, no one had noticed that the infamous Adrien Agreste was the long legged model in front of her lens.

It had taken them a long time to get where they are now, but they did manage to get there in the end. In her case, she’d had to weaken, if only a little bit, to find a place to grow. Meeting each other halfway was their bible and wholehearted devotion was their scripture; after that year from hell, they’d spent two solid years reconstructing their foundation, which meant they were finally ready to have these tough conversations about their future all over again...

...and Marinette still didn’t think she was ready to tell him why she kept putting him off.

“Good afternoon!” Docteur Bellefleur greets her as she strides inside the small examination room, her wild, multicoloured hair still as bright as it had been when she was a little girl here with her parents, “A pleasure to see you as always, Marinette. Are you here about your results?”

Marinette nods, “And another thing too, but I’d like to hear my results first.”

“Of course,” Docteur Bellefleur types in her credentials and brings Marinette’s file up onto the screen, “It looks like the new benzodiazepines I prescribed you are reacting to your system a lot better than those other ones were before. Your blood tests all came back negative this time, which is great news! I’ll send another round of the prescription to your pharmacist and I’ll schedule you for another test in a month. If those come back negative as well, then you should be right as rain to take a pill whenever you feel like the stress is getting to be too much.”

Marinette sighs in relief, “That’s...that’s a huge weight off my shoulders.”

“Anxiety medication shouldn’t be giving you anxiety,” Doctuer Bellefleur says with a laugh, “Now, what else can I do for you?”

“Well...I, um…”

_ thump thump _

Marinette holds her breath. Could she do this? Could she really ask?

_ thump thump _

Would taking this step forward finally force her to get over her fears?

_ thump thump _

So many things could go wrong. Could they really weather the storm if it did?

_ thump thump _

“It’s alright Marinette,” Docteur Bellefleur leans back, giving her patient a little more space to breathe, “Take your time.”

Marinette forcefully gets a hold of herself, “I...I want to have my IUD removed.”

“Oh!” Docteur Bellefleur sets her clipboard down on the counter with a smile, “Is it time for a little family planning discussion?”

Marinette feels her face redden at the thought, “Not yet. I just...I just want it out just in case.”

“Hmmm,” her doctor raises a knowing brow, “Just in case? It seems like someone has babies on the brain.”

“Not me,” Marinette replies nervously, fiddling with the rose gold necklace Adrien had gotten her for Christmas a few years back, “It’s more...it’s...it’s kind of complicated.”

“Is it?” Doctuer Bellefleur inquires, her lips rising at the corners in a way that tells Marinette she’s being humoured.

“Yes and no,” Marinette eventually caves, “My boyfriend wants to start a family and...I’m not sure what I want to do yet.”

“Because of your work schedule? Or because of something else?”

“A little bit of both,” Marinette slumps a little, “I’m only twenty two and...well, I’m still not sure if Paris is the safest place to raise a baby right now. I don’t know if I’m ready to shoulder that responsibility.”

Docteur Bellefleur raises a brow, “Why is safety a concern? There hasn’t been an akuma attack on Paris in over three years.”

“Just because it hasn’t happened lately doesn’t mean it can’t happen again.”

“Ah…” Docteur Bellefleur adjusts her glasses, “Well, I’d say the city is in good hands, all things considered. Ladybug and Chat Noir take care of every bank robbery and violent crime, among other things. I just saw on the news that Paris has become the safest places to live in Europe now that Le Papillon has been taken care of.”

Marinette makes a face, “Still…”

“Have the two of you discussed your concerns about starting a family?”

“Kind of?” Marinette responds with a shrug, “It’s not something I feel comfortable doing right now but…”

“But you feel obligated to at least make it a possibility just in case the opportunity arises or you change your mind.”

“Pretty much,” she responds with a shrug, “That’s why we’re kind of at an impasse. I’ve been holding him off for years and...well, I don’t know. But I think I should at least entertain the possibility instead of giving him a hard no all the time if it will make him happy.” 

“Well, don’t let him pressure you into anything you’re not ready for,” Docteur Bellefleur replies, fetching a pair of gloves and a pair of ring forceps from one of the cabinets, “Do you want me to prescribe some birth control pills in the meantime?”

“Yes,” Marinette exhales, “That would be great, thank you.”

~

Marinette snatches the two packages of pills off the counter of her local pharmacy and shoves them into her purse with a weary sigh, glancing through the windows of the empty store as the late January rain continues to pour down on the Parisian streets beyond, “I  _ really _ don’t feel like getting wet today.”

Tikki peeks out from inside her purse, “You could always transform.”

“I could…” she considers it briefly, “But would I always be able to transform?”

“Yes,” Tikki responds, her expression one of concern, “Why wouldn’t you?”

“I mean...when I become a mother one day.”

“Ohhh,” Tikki giggles, covering her mouth with her tiny paws, “Of course Marinette! It’s healthy to be active as long as you’re comfortable!”

“But what about the crime fighting and the break-ins and the gang violence?” Marinette frowns at the memory, “What if the Butterfly Miraculous goes rogue again?”

“Then that’s what Chat Noir is for!” Tikki says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “You might not be able to perform flying scissor kicks with a big belly, but you can certainly capture criminals with your yoyo. Nothing would change.”

“Everything would change,” Marinette insists, affronted by the very thought, “We’d need babysitters, Tikki. We’d have to tell people about what we do!”

“Your parents know,” Tikki shrugs, entirely unconcerned, “And I’m sure they’d be happy to watch your little one every once and a while if there was an emergency.”

“They’re  _ bakers _ . They go to sleep at 20h, I can’t just wake them up and drop a baby on their laps.”

“Do you really think they would mind so much?”

“Yes. Yes? I mean…”

“You won’t know until you ask.”

Marinette gasps, “I can’t ask them now! They’d be so excited, they’d tell everyone in Paris that they were going to be grandparents!”

“Ooh, I can’t wait to see their faces!” Tikki claps her little paws together, “It will be so nice to have little ones running around again!”

“ _ Little ones? _ ” Marinette gawks at her kwami, “I was thinking about just starting with one!”

Tikki doesn’t appear to be listening, “I had a  _ Bọ Rùa _ who had twelve wonderful little bugs! And my  _ mariquita _ had three sets of twins, all of them kittens! Oh, and my  _ бубамара _ ran an orphanage and had hundreds of little ones she called her own…”

Tikki continues to ramble but Marinette’s already in a world of her own, the reality of her situation finally dawning on her. It never occurred to her why Tikki had been so adamant about getting a better source of birth control after the first heat from hell years ago when she and Adrien had spent every spare moment of their lives having sex on rooftops, but it’s beginning to dawn on her now, no Ladybug vision required.

“Please tell me I’m not going to have a million kids.”

Tikki’s giggles begin anew, “I’m the kwami of creation, Marinette! What do you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the roller coaster ride! Now that we've gotten all of the flashbacks out of the way, we will be focusing on the present in the future chapters. 
> 
> (If you're confused about the timeline and didn't read the author's notes at the beginning...🤷)
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	3. Tits and Ass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to Doctor Bronte! On today's episode, we will discuss the fact that relationships, no matter how destined by magic they are, can still have their ups and downs. Media and fanfiction portrayals of romantic and sexual relationships have lulled us all into a false sense of believing perfect and happily-ever-afters actually exist. Newsflash: they don't. There's a reason most stories end with the characters coming together; no one wants to stomach the fact that what comes after is hardly unicorns and roses. Relationships have their trials and tribulations, their highs and lows. People can still fight no matter how much they love each other. People can still make mistakes no matter how much they understand their partner's minds. 
> 
> It's the truth and I don't shy away from it. Don't expect to find a fantasy Cinderella story here, ladies, gentlemen and non-binaries. All roads have speed bumps and pot holes, but we always get to our destination in the end.
> 
> So buckle up and put on your big kid pants. Struggles and smut awaits!

"Get ready Babe, I've been working on my angles," Adrien announces, striking a pose more reminiscent of Sailor Moon than a high fashion model as he struts into the empty dining room, "I can do like, one a second now, I swear."

"But are they good poses?" she asks facetiously, not even deigning him with a second glance as she adjusts her camera, eager to take advantage of the best light in his apartment, "I guess I'm about to find out."

"As if you could ever doubt all this," he twists his body into the ultimate tits and ass pose, cupping his invisible breasts to boot, "Mm, I am  _ feeling  _ this one. What do you think, Bug? Am I selling these trousers or am I  _ selling _ these trousers?"

“You are such a dork,” Marinette hides her face behind the lens and tries not to laugh, "And you're going to split the seams of those trousers if you keep doing all…” she trails off, gesturing wildly, “...all that!"

Adrien makes a strangled gasp, "Are you calling me fat?!"

Marinette facepalms, "Adrien, you're not fat, we literally just had this conversation—”

"You literally just said that I'm going to split the seams!" he squawks.

“Adrien, you’re going to rip them because you’re twisting yourself up like a pretzel, not because I think you're—”

"—fat?!"

Marinette groans, "Adrien—"

"It's my dad bod, isn't it?"

" _ Adriennnnnnnn _ ..." Marinette drags her hands down her face and wordlessly begs the fashion gods for mercy, "I just saw you naked last night, and trust me, you do  _ not  _ have a dad bod."

He gasps, louder this time, "That’s because I was sucking it in! I was  _ trying _ to seduce you with my irresistable sex appeal last night, which, by the way—”

"Alright, you know what?" Marinette throws her hands in the air, "I am going to go to the kitchen and make coffee—”

"No no no no," Adrien rushes towards her, his arms outstretched, "I'm sorry, I’m being a drama queen—”

"Shhhhh," Marinette holds him by the biceps and gently squeezes them, "You need to chill.”

"But I am chill!" Adrien assures her, squatting up and down for lack of any other way to release his pent up energy, "I practiced all morning! I knew you were coming home early so we could shoot your new line in the daylight!"

Marinette sighs. He's right, in a way. She faked a migraine to get off work early so she could get the next set of photos edited and posted on her social media pages by the weekend. While her job at Colette Paris was pulling in a good amount of pay and benefits to boot, it was her secret fashion line  _ M _ that was her passion. It was where she could put her stamp on things by stitching her name into the fabrics she used, something she could never do to the knits and patterns at work. It was where she could be creative with the cuts and silhouettes, taking inspiration from designers all over the world and the kookier, the better as far as she was concerned. Her name may have been on the pieces but she hardly advertised that the Marinette behind  _ M _ was the Dupain-Cheng version so as to save her and her boyfriend’s anonymity, especially now that a few of her pieces were beginning to get some major Instagram notoriety across the globe.

“I need you to take this seriously,” Marinette levels with him, her voice taking on that edge he loves so much, "Are you ready to do this?"

"Yes! One hundred percent! I'm ready!" he scurries back in front of the camera, "I was born ready! I am a model! Of clothing! Of your clothing! I can do this!"

Marinette blinks, "Were you at Nino's this morning while I was at work?"

Adrien freezes, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess," she intones, planting her hands on her hips, "And you didn't happen to drink one of Nino's illegal energy drinks, did you?"

"They're not illegal!" Adrien slams his hands over his mouth, "I mean...no! Never! I promised I wouldn't do that again after last time!

"Don't lie to me, Agreste. I can see right through you."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

Marinette cocks a hip, "Mmhmm."

"I am not a liar!"

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"You are a liar, and you suck at it, by the way."

“I’m good at sucking a lot of things,” Adrien licks his lips, “But lying is not one of them.”

“Is that so?” Marinette tips her head to the side, eyeing him like a predator, “So if I message Nino and Alya right now and ask if you were over at their place drinking those things with like, fourteen times the amount of the daily recommended caffeine intake, what would they say?”

Adrien tries to adjust himself with as much subtlety as he can in his skintight leather trousers and Marinette immediately knows what this is all about, “They would say nothing! Because I most definitely did not go over to their apartment to drink those really delicious energy drinks that totally do not have fourteen times the daily recommended caffeine intake!”

“You’re lying to me again.”

"No I’m not."

"Yes you are."

"No I’m not!"

"Yes you are!"

“No I’m—”

"Oh my GOD!" Marinette finally snaps, "I swear to every kwami in that box, if this is just some elaborate plan to have sex with me—”

"Is it working?"

Marinette is literally within centimetres of strangling him, "I came home early to take photos, not to have sex with you."

"But—”

"Besides, you don't even deserve a handjob now that you've completely derailed my photoshoot!" Marinette turns off her DSLR and puts the cap over the lens, "So no. I'm not having sex with you. That's completely out of the question."

Adrien drops to his knees, "What if I promise to give you the best photoshoot of your life?"

"I sincerely doubt that's possible."

"No no no no," Adrien scrabbles to his feet and puffs out his chest, "No way, you do  _ not _ get to challenge me like that and then not expect me to perform!"

He runs back onto their makeshift set, "What do you want from me? Coy? Debonaire? Dashing, yet demure?"

Marinette deadpans, "Why do I get the feeling that you're only doing this for the sex?"

"At least you don't have to actually pay me!" he shrugs with a grin, shifting his hips and shoulders into place, "Okay, I'm ready. Let's go. I can feel the energy. I am one with the energy."

It takes her several moments to compose herself before ultimately giving in, turning the camera back on in her hands. She bends over and snaps the first shot to check the light and shakes the tension from her shoulders, desperate to just get this show back on the road, "That'll do."

"Bug, I’m not gonna settle with 'that'll do'. Oh no, I'm going to throw so much raw, sexual energy at you that you're not going to be able to resist me!"

"Less talking, more modelling."

"Excuse me?”

"Shh, models don't talk."

"This one does."

"Except this model is  _ this _ close to sleeping on the couch for the next week if he doesn't start putting his money where his mouth is, so zip it!"

Adrien opens his mouth to retort and quickly slams his jaw shut.

"That's better," Marinette says with a grin that does all sorts of wicked things to his blood pressure, "Now let's get to work."

~

The pictures are edited, uploaded and queued up for the big reveal tomorrow. She's scheduled the pictures from the new line to drop on the hour, every hour from noon until 23h tomorrow, with the final surprise appearing right before midnight. She double checks the schedule one last time before finally clicking DND and plugging her mobile in for the night on her dresser, glancing over her shoulder at the scene before her.

He'd crashed harder than usual, likely due to his very irresponsible choice of mixing a dangerously caffeinated beverage with the fact that he hasn’t been getting much rest to begin with, too busy with the multitude of things going on in his life. He’s been trying to negotiate a deal on the rent of their new apartment with all the vigour of a real estate agent in the making, not to mention the planning that’s been going into his Easter fundraiser for his charity. He’s created an entire Twitter scandal around trying to get Chat Noir to dress up as the Easter Bunny, much to Chloé’s amusement, and the hype he’s been able to drum up is reflected in the steadily rising fundraising, even if the event isn’t even happening until the end of March.

Barring his unhealthy affection for all things caffeinated, things on his end are busy, but good.

Especially his backend, if she’s being honest.

He'd conked out face first on their mattress an hour ago while she was still working away at the kitchen counter, which was a little unusual for him; Adrien is an attention seeker through and through, although he’d never admit it, and he rarely leaves her alone to work if it’s after 22h. That’s bedtime and he’s quite adamant that she sticks to a schedule, if only so he can sneak in a quickie before passing out beside her.

But it’s certainly past 22h now and here he is, lying stark naked under their bedsheets with his ass up in the air and his hand in the pyjama drawer. Marinette has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing, the position of his body so strangely comical that Marinette wishes she could take a photo just to show him. How on earth did he fall asleep like that? 

A little giggle sneaks out from behind her fingers. Who is she kidding? Adrien ‘if I fits, I sits’ Agreste can sleep just about anywhere.

She slips into the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash the makeup from her face, coating it in a healthy dose of moisturizer to stave off the dryness from the winter winds outside. Weather wise, February isn’t being kind to them this year and with the way the world is heading these days, she doesn’t suppose it ever will again. Climate change sucks, both for her skin and for…

...well, the heat still hasn’t hit her yet.

Which was strange, to be perfectly honest. It usually crawled down their throats and smashed them upside the head sometime in February, leaving them unable to tear themselves off of each other for longer than a few hours. Emotionally, the first few weeks were always the worst weeks, especially for Adrien, but Marinette couldn’t even feel the telltale tendrils at the base of her spine yet, let alone an inextinguishable urge to ravage him senseless.

_ Hmm... _

Marinette gently slides beneath the bedsheets and stares up at the ceiling, a little perturbed. Does that mean something? Is her body suddenly not as attracted to Adrien anymore? That couldn’t be right...she may love him in a different way than she used to back when they were still teenagers, but she still adores him with all her heart nonetheless. His capacity for kindness had tripled over the past few years which made him even more sexy than his teenage physique ever could. So yeah, he may be a little softer around the middle than he used to be, but that hardly makes a difference to Marinette; it’s the other things about him that she loves in that wonderfully overwhelming way that makes her heart feel like it’s going to burst.

His hair, first of all, is still adorable. She loves the undercut and the way he styles the longer bits at the top, all blond and curly and disheveled like the kitten she fell in love with in the first place. His cheeks have filled out and his skin seems like it’s almost permanently dimpled from how often he smiles, which is pretty much constantly now that he’s developed a personality beyond his father’s shadow. He’s spontaneous, both in and out of the bedroom, springing activities and experiences and all sorts of other things she’d never suggest on her just to keep her on her toes. The Adrien she lives with now is a goofball and a constant showman, unwilling to hide behind doors or walls any longer, and although he still avoids the press like the plague, he takes to the streets of Paris without worrying what people think of him any longer.

Now that they’ve grown up and learned more about each other, Marinette can honestly say that she’s never been more enamoured with her gorgeous, sensitive, dopey boyfriend, even if he’s been acting kind of strangely as of late. He’s been possessive and curiously eager to please, not to mention handsy, and he’s been dropping hints about getting engaged left and right since that conversation about kids back in January. She knows she’ll have to give in eventually, although she’s still far too afraid of what will happen if she does; Marinette is known for being the queen of jinxing herself, and the minute she lets him propose will be the minute Nooroo comes back to Paris and wreaks havoc on their lives all over again.

It doesn’t matter though, for the meantime. She’ll hold onto the status quo for a few more weeks at least because that’s where she’s most comfortable; change is hard and keeping Adrien from pushing her outside of her box is ever harder, but she’s managing more or less. She’s even given up her IUD for him which is a big step for her, not that she’s told him yet. Everything will fall into place in due time, as things often do.

“I’ll deal with all this tomorrow,” Marinette murmurs, signing into her pillowcase as she turns off the lamp on her side of the bed. The mythology and the stories were right all along about their partnership; he’s the silly to her sensible, the idealism to her pragmatic nature. He’s the light in her darkness, the perfect yang to her yin.

They’re  _ them _ . Marinette and Adrien. Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

Nothing can stop them.

Nothing could tear them apart.

~

_ “Hey Bug, your favourite person is trending again.” _

Her mobile firmly pressed to her ear, Marinette jabs her stylus against her tablet and tries desperately to finish the last of the designs for her manager at Colette Paris, “Gabriel? What did he do now?”

_ “Not him,” _ Adrien responds sharply, dulling the edge of his voice with forced humour,  _ “It’s Lila again. Turns out they’re airing a tell-all about her or something on TVi in two weeks.” _

Marinette accidentally smears a stroke of fushia across the skirt she’s been editing for a little over an hour and grumbles as she scrambles to erase it, “I can’t believe people are still falling for her lies.”

_ “Well, it helps when you’re one of the wealthiest socialites in the world.” _

“Yeah yeah...” Marinette mutters, shifting her phone to her other ear, “How did she even get so rich anyway? I mean, what did she do? Did she, like, hypnotize someone into giving her all that cash?” Marinette’s stylus creaks against the strength of her grip, “Ugh, of all the people who deserve a good dose of karma…”

_ “It’s her, I know,” _ Adrien responds,  _ “But nowadays, she can actually back up her claims. Did you hear about what she did with the Mother Theresa program in Kolkata?” _

“You mean, what she ‘apparently’ did in Kolkata?” Marinette absolutely loathes the universe sometimes, “She used it all for a giant photo op, as if half of her posts aren’t totally photoshopped!  _ Ugh! _ She’s supposed to be helping people with all her stupid money, not making an Instagram business out of voluntourism!”

_ “That’s just the way it is, Marinette. Being an Influencer is big business, you know that.” _

She huffs, “She must be doing it illegally. She  _ has  _ to be.”

_ “It’s not up to you to prove,” _ Adrien’s voice lowers, a clear warning on his end,  _ “That was made pretty clear when you threatened her as Ladybug the last time she came to Paris.” _

“Which is why she’s avoided coming back ever since,” Marinette can’t help but feel a little smug about that particular jab, even if it had been a PR nightmare, “Suits me just fine. Paris needs a little less Lila.”

_ “Well, by the looks of it, she’s going to drag you through the mud during this interview,”  _ Adrien pauses for a moment,  _ “Yeah, the press is going to eat this up. We may have to do some damage control.” _

Marinette sighs, “Seriously?”

_ “Seriously,” _ Adrien parrots, his worry seeping through his tone,  _ “I don’t like this, Bug. From the commercials that’ve been airing, she seems like she’s really going down the warpath against you.” _

“I can take whatever she throws at me,” Marinette grouses.

Adrien sighs, _ “Don’t underestimate the power of words. She can really wreck your reputation, you know that.” _

“If it helps, you can uninvite me from your Easter fundraiser.”

_ “That’s not what I’m say _ —”

“Sure it’s not,” Marinette cuts him off, “Look, if I don’t get this finished right now, I won’t be coming home at all.”

_ “I made pasta. I put yours in the fridge.” _

“I wish I could be home in time for dinner for once. I miss getting to see you cook.”

_ “I miss all of the rewards you’d give me for cooking you dinner.” _

Marinette snickers into the receiver, “I’m sure you do. Oh, and by the way...you know that thing we do every spring?”

_ “Mmmhmm.” _

“Has it...you know…”

_ “...yeah, about that—” _

“—because it hasn’t hit me at all,” Marinette replies before he can finish, leaving the skirt behind to work on the blouse, “And I just wanted to make sure you were fine since we usually get hit at the same time and obviously something would be wrong if we fell out of sync.”

_ “Oh. Um, well...yeah, that would be weird I guess,”  _ Adrien’s voice cracks, _ “Nope. No heat here.” _

“Oh, thank god,” Marinette breathes out a sigh of relief, “I was worried there for a second. I know how bad it gets for you at the beginning and I just thought—”

_ “Nah, it’s all good,” _ he says, his voice now perfectly even,  _ “You’re too busy to handle the heat right now anyway.” _

“You know I’ll always make time for you.”

_ “I know…” _

Marinette nibbles at her lip, “Good. Hey, I should be home around 23h, okay?”

_ “Do you want me to come pick you up?” _

“No no,” Marinette shakes her head, “I want you to get some sleep. Keep the bed warm for me, alright?”

She doesn’t miss the carefully concealed fatigue in his words,  _ “Will do. I love you.” _

“Love you too.” 

~

Sunday is Adrien’s favourite day of the week and quite honestly, it’s become her favourite day of the week as well. Sunday night dinners at her parent’s home have always been a part of their weekly tradition, particularly once she had moved out of the bakery loft for good. She likes being able to have some mother/daughter time without the stress of time constraints and she’s getting to spend this particular Sunday evening wrapping and folding dumplings alongside her maman while her boyfriend and father whip up something or other downstairs for dessert.

“...so anyway, all of the sudden Colette herself appears in the doorway this morning and asks for me! Me, Maman! Colette Paris, the hottest fashion designer in all of France, asked for me! And of course, I’m already shaking because what if I’m in trouble? What if she’s going to fire me in front of all my colleagues and then kick me out and then I’ll never get a job in fashion ever again?”

“Marinette…”

“I know, I know,” Marinette dips her fingers into the bowl of water and runs them across the wrapper, sealing the edges of the _ jian jiao _ sitting in her palm, “I was catastrophizing, but I swear I was in control. So then I got up and she does this thing with her fingers, like a ‘come hither’ but in a really scary way that made me think I was going to throw up and then she led me out of the room and into the hallway and her assistant was waiting for us, right? And then her assistant, who’s name is Perrine by the way, handed Colette her iPad and Colette looked at it for a moment and then turned it around and I’m just, totally panicking at this point because she’s got one of the designs I was working on on the screen.”

“Was this the jumpsuit you told me about last week?”

“Yes! That’s the one!” Marinette nods, carefully setting her dumpling on the cornflower dusted platter in front of them, “The one with the hot pants and the disco collar! And while I was working on it, I  _ kiiiiind _ of changed the design a little because I didn’t really feel like it fit in with the rest of the collection so I altered the silhouette and moved around some of the fabric details so the seams would be less obvious on the physical piece which, in hindsight, was a really stupid thing for a Junior Designer to do, especially since I only just started there in November.”

Sabine nods, “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“Well, yeah, except I wasn’t thinking obviously, I was just doing what my instincts were telling me to do. And I shouldn’t have done it but I did it anyway,” Marinette takes a deep breath and scoops some of the pork and cabbage filling into the next wrapper, “So Colette dipped her head and just  _ stared _ at me across the rims of her glasses, right? And then she said, “You’re Marinette Dupain-Cheng, yes?” And I just kind of nodded my head because I was absolutely terrified and she just hummed a little and looked back at her iPad.”

“And then?”

“And then Colette looked back up and me and said, “You altered my original design.” I swear, Maman, I thought I was going to drop dead when she said that, and then she handed me the iPad and asked me to explain my changes, so I did. And she just stood there, listening to me as I tried not to ramble and then she just raised her hand to stop me and said, “Enough” and at this point, I was one hundred percent sure she was going to fire me on the spot.”

But she didn’t fire you, or else you wouldn’t be here making dumplings with me right now.”

“Exactly. I’d probably be job hunting,” Marinette nearly drops her  _ jian jiao _ on the ground as she waves her arms around, “No, she looked me dead in the eye and said, and I’m not kidding, she actually said, “I think it’s an improvement. Come by my office at 15h,” and then I went back to work and all the other designers were whispering and then 15h arrived and I went inside and, Maman, you’re not going to believe it!”

Sabine smiles, “Are you finally going to tell me the good news?”

“Yes!” Marinette wriggles her entire body, unable to keep her emotions inside any longer, “She asked me to join the couture design team!”

“Congratulations!” Sabine cries, throwing her arms around her daughter's shoulders, “I am so proud of you!”

“Thank you!” Marinette slides off her stool and jumps up and down with excitement, “I haven’t told Adrien yet since it just happened this afternoon and I took an Uber here from work, but I wanted to tell you first.”

“Oh, we’re going to have to get something special from the cabinet to celebrate!” Sabine is already dusting off her hands and walking across the room, “This calls for a bottle of champagne, don’t you think?”

Marinette laughs, “I already picked one up on the way here! It’s in my bag.”

“Then I’ll put it in the fridge,” Sabine roots through the fabric and lifts it from the brown paper bag it’s sitting in, “Tom is going to be delighted when he hears the good news.”

“I can’t wait to see his face,” Marinette opens the door of the freezer for Sabine, “And Adrien’s too. They’re both going to be thrilled.”

Sabine nods and returns to her daughter’s side, picking up her abandoned wrapper and refilling it, “So, does this mean your hours will be a little better?”

“Yes and no,” Marinette shrugs, adjusting the folds of dough, “My hours are going to be less sporadic, so I’ll be spending less time at the studio at night, but my weekends are going to be packed every time there’s a fashion show coming up.”

“That’s not so bad,” Sabine says, “I know the overtime you’ve been putting in over the last few months has been difficult on you.”

“It’s been difficult on both of us,” Marinette twists her lips, “Adrien has been getting kind of weird with me lately. I think something’s up.”

“I think it’s better to ask than to assume,” Sabine finishes her fortieth dumpling and begins washing her hands, “And you two always get a little...strange this time of year.”

Marinette’s face turns pink at the very notion, “I already asked about that and he said no.”

“He may have said no because he knows how busy you are.”

“I doubt it,” Marinette glances at the last few wrappers on her side of the platter and starts to work double time, “I think he’s just upset because I haven’t been at home a lot.”

“But you’ve been more aware of his feelings this time, right?”

“Trust me, I’m checking in with him constantly and he seems fine,” Marinette assures her, “I even texted his therapist the other day to make sure he’s not having any Miraculous trouble and she said he was all clear.”

Sabine narrows her eyes, “Isn’t that against doctor/patient protocol?”

“She and I came to an understanding once she knew about our identities,” Marinette explains, “I wanted to meet her on my own to make sure she was worthy of keeping our secret so I booked an appointment with her myself. Docteur Renée promised to keep me informed if anything was happening with him and his Miraculous, especially once she explained what had happened with the Métro system and his  _ cataclysme _ three years ago.”

“Oh right,” Sabine pulls a wok from beneath the counter and sets it on the cooktop, “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”

“Well, you’re not exactly supposed to be in the loop,” she reminds her mother, “I think Docteur Renée and I are the only other people who know about what his powers did to subterranean Paris. Even Adrien doesn’t fully understand what his powers actually caused,” Marinette shivers, “So yeah. Now that I’m directly responsible for the Miraculous as their guardian, Docteur Renée and I meet up every six months or so for a check-in just to make sure he and Plagg are alright.”

Sabine pours some peanut oil into the wok, “Well, I still suggest sitting down and talking about how he’s feeling. You might find out something about him you didn’t know before.”

“I will,” Marinette answers, although she’s not really convinced asking him again will lead to any results. Adrien may be her ridiculous goofball of a boyfriend, but he could still be cagey when he wants to be. If he has something he needs to say to her, he’ll tell her when the time is right…

...right?

~

“I can’t  _ believe _ you kept this a secret from me!” Adrien cries in excitement, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her over his shoulder the minute they get out of their Uber in front of their apartment building. Marinette screams because there are still people around, staring at them as he marches in through the front doors and shoves his key into the slot, “Bug, we are going to celebrate tonight!”

She’s still pounding on his back with her fists as he starts marching them up the stairs, “Let me go!”

“Nope,” he responds, tightening his grip on her body, “You’re too perfect. I can’t let your goddess feet touch the ground.”

“What?” Marinette can’t help but laugh at the ridiculous things that come out of his mouth, “Adrien, put me down right now.”

“Shh, you’re going to wake the neighbours.”

“It’s barely 21h.”

“And it’s a work night, so let them sleep,” Adrien says, still being entirely impossible. He gets their door open with a flick of his fingers and toes off his shoes, ignoring the indingnant woman still protesting over his shoulder, “What should I do with you...oh! I know!”

Folding her arms across her chest, Marinette doesn’t even have to wager a guess as to where he’s taking her. He starts to whistle as he skips across the foyer and practically kicks down the door of their bedroom, tossing her onto their mattress in a spectacular arc that knocks the air from her lungs. 

“You. Stay right there,” he points at her, still grinning from ear to ear, “I’ll be right back.”

Marinette smirks; as if she’s going to let him win that easy. 

When he comes back into their bedroom a minute later, she fully revels in the myriad of emotions that cross over his features. First, of course, there’s excitement. He’s got at least three things in his hands, not that she’s paying attention to any of them. His sparkling green eyes soon widen though, his jaw slackening at the state of dress, or lack thereof, she’s somehow found herself in.

“You’re naked,” he says, and Marinette loves it when his last two braincells bounce around in his skull like a game of Pong, “You’re  _ naked. _ ”

Bare as the day she was born, Marinette stretches languidly across their bedspread and lavishes in his complete absence of subtlety.

(Perhaps he learned from the best.)

“I am,” she replies, propping her head up with her elbow and cupping her cheek in her palm, “What are you going to do about it?”

Adrien blinks. His mouth opens and closes at least twice, his pink tongue poking out from between his lips. Marinette basks in her ability to short circuit his entire nervous system whenever she can, which is not something she can pull off very often; Adrien has always been the more spontaneous of the two of them now that he’s found his own path in the world.

Whatever’s in his left hand drops to the ground with a clatter.

“You’re so sexy right now.”

“You don’t say,” Marinette grins, wholly amused by her boyfriend’s complete and utter lack of eloquence, “You know, it’s getting a little cold over here. I could really use something to warm me up.”

Whatever’s in his right hand also drops to the ground with a clatter.

“Yeah?”

Watching him haul his sweater up and over his head in the blink of an eye will never get old, “Yep.”   


Eager as a boy scout, his jeans go flying and land in a heap just underneath the dresser, “Come on, Chaton. I’m not getting any warmer.”

Marinette watches his briefs soar upwards only to get hung up on the paddles of their ceiling fan, “If those fall on us while we’re— _ mmpff!” _

Any thoughts of Adrien’s undergarments smacking her in the face mid coitus immediately stutter to a grinding halt as he kisses her, licking his way into her mouth the best way he knows how. She bites his bottom lip in retaliation and kisses him back just as fervently, slanting her mouth against his as if she belongs there, which she does, fully and completely. There’s no other person on this planet she’d rather be with at this moment, naked and vulnerable and elated and blessed.

And about to get very,  _ very _ lucky.

He breaks their kiss for a moment to inhale sharply, his arousal already pressing urgently against her thigh. He’s unusually quick on the uptake today but she supposes it’s because his sex drive has always been zero to hero in less than thirty seconds, which has consistently been a bit of a laughing point for the both of them. Adrien is understandably proud of his body’s expertly fine tuned ‘Marinette-mode’ and Marinette just finds it funny that his horny switch is so easy to flick on in a flash.

“Oh god,” Adrien groans against her lips and Marinette’s thoughts quickly snap back into focus, rewarding his needy cry with a slow thrust of her hips. It does the trick and soon Adrien is nipping at the edge of her jaw and whispering all sorts of naughty things into her ear; he loves talking dirty, even if it makes her laugh more than it makes her want to ravage him, but there has been some exceptions. She falls under his spell every time he threatens to break out the ropes and blindfolds from their little toy box in the closet, although he’s not whipping out that card just yet. He’s praising her, telling her all of the things he’d like to do to her, peppering her neck with kisses until...

“Adrien?” Marinette sputters as he says something so out of the blue that her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline, “...wait, what did you just say?”

“I said, I want you to fuck me one of these days,” he repeats himself, pressing open mouthed kisses against the column of her throat, “I think it would be fun.”

Marinette does the verbal equivalent of a keysmash, eliciting a laugh from Adrien, “Come on Bug, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

_ Well. _

Marinette has thought about a lot of things. She’s a planner, a creator, and a designer of her perfectly curated clothing, meals and lifestyle. She has more organizational software on her devices than a CEO’s secretary and touts her agenda as her most important, can’t-live-without item. So yes, the thought of strapping on a harness and plowing her boyfriend from behind had indeed crossed her mind once or twice, but only in her wildest, most secret fantasies.

And fantasies are all they are, if she’s being perfectly honest. They’ve never really used toys in the bedroom before besides ropes and blindfolds (and occasionally, the accessories of their costumes). So why bring this up so unexpectedly?

Her body betrays her quite suddenly as Marinette quickly realises Adrien’s been hovering over her with a smug grin this whole time, watching her entire thought process play over her features like an XXX rated feature film. Her face is burning, her mouth gaping wide, and Adrien takes advantage of finally grasping the upper hand with triumphant satisfaction.

“You know you’ll always be my Lady,” Adrien latches onto her earlobe and tugs it between his teeth, “But I'd like to try being the pillow princess for once.”

Holy  _ shit. _

Marinette can't be certain as to whether or not she says that out loud, not that it really matters; Adrien is fully aware of what he’s done to her now that he’s planted that little seed of pleasure in her thoughts and basks in the way it more or less consumes her, smirking as he pauses to suck a bruise into the skin just below her collarbone. 

She makes another unintelligible sound as his fingers tiptoe down her side and slither their way between her thighs, coming up far more soaked than usual after only a minute or two of foreplay. Adrien snickers and Marinette knows he probably thinks he’s won this round.

As if. Unwilling to concede quite yet, she digs her fingers into his hair and  _ tugs _ .

_ “Fuck!” _

God, he loves that sharp sting of pain and she knows it, letting go of his hair and smoothing her fingers across his scalp to soothe the bite that has him humming with appreciation, his purr already bubbling up from his sternum. She loves to coax that little sound out of him whenever she can and keeps massaging as she kisses him senseless, his hands scooping around to hold onto the firm, sculpted muscles of her back. 

Need, pure and simple, coils in her belly and there’s no stopping the rush of lust she feels as she keeps picturing Adrien on his knees in front of her everytime she closes her eyes. She thinks he can tell, judging by the growl that tears from his lips as she bucks her hips against his arousal, and wraps her thighs around his waist in a hint so obvious even Adrien can’t hold back any longer.

“Do you need more time to warm up?”

Always a gentleman, Adrien’s attention immediately turns to her clit. 

“ _ Ah _ —Adrien!” she warbles, her voice shaking with intensity, “Just— _ mmm,  _ god, do it!”

Adrien adjusts himself and thrusts inside of her, devouring her mouth to keep from crying out loud enough to shake the plaster. Her lips are eager and desperate against his, her fingers drifting from his hair to amble along his throat and jaw. He’s not going to last like this, not with how tight she is, and she’s so fucking hungry for his love that it almost hurts.

“You know,” Marinette gasps, digging her nails into the skin of his back, “You were right, before.”

Adrien doesn’t even know how she’s still coherent, “About— _ uuh! _ —what?”

“About me wanting to—” Marinette keens as Adrien unexpectedly swivels his hips, “—wanting to fuck you.”

Adrien’s thrusts promptly derail, his punishing rhythm sputtering to a grinding halt, “ _ Oh god _ .”

She clenches down on him and tries to focus her brain for half a second now that she’s got the advantage again, “Over your piano...” she pants, watching as his mouth falls slack. Reduced to mere sounds at the very notion, Adrien can do nothing but jam his hips against hers and fuck her into next week. 

_ “Yesss… _ ” Marinette luxuriates in the little mewls he makes, upping in pitch as he rockets closer and closer to tipping over the edge. She’s relentlessly chasing her own release as he garbles her name, every single one of his muscles pulled taut. He’s so close to coming that he’s shaking and it doesn’t take much to finally shove him over the brink with a throaty shout.

He meanders back down to earth slowly, his breaths quick and ragged and utterly spent. She runs her fingers through his sweat drenched hair and gently shifts to the side, allowing him to flop off of her and into the Adrien shaped divot in the mattress beside her with a satisfied grunt. He’ll remember that she hasn’t come in a few moments but for now, she’ll leave him be; the power she has over him is pleasure enough, shivering as her lust for him tingles in her toes and calves.

It takes him a solid two minutes of being gently cuddled before he can gather enough sense to question her, “I gotta…”

“Hold on Chaton. Catch your breath,” she smiles, unrepentant, “We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

Snuggling against his side, she attributes the nervous jolt he makes to the afterglow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of foreshadowing I poured into this sucker is frankly embarrassing. 
> 
> I hope you liked how I've framed Lila! If I was gifted the ability of being a super villain, you can bet your ass I'd use it to become famous and filthy rich so I could drag my enemies from afar before finally vanquishing them.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	4. The Elephant in the Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be warned: this chapter is an absolute roller coaster ride. You're going to be laughing and angsting in the same five minutes. It's lighthearted and heavy and it has some of my favourite lines I've written to date (the pun section is my magnum opus). 
> 
> Buckle up and hold on. We're almost at the fluff 😉

_ Le 15 février. _ Move-in day.

Well, move-in night, she supposes.

It had been Marinette who had come up with the brilliant idea to bring a few pieces of their big furniture over to their new apartment during the day so that they seemed like normal, everyday neighbours moving into a beautiful converted  _ hôtel particulier _ in the heart of  _ Le Marais _ . It’s a huge step up from their old, one bedroom apartment in  _ Faubourg Saint-Honoré _ and Marinette had no choice but to give in when Adrien brought her with him for a second viewing. 

The first thing she'd noticed when she’d walked in behind the real estate agent was the  _ space _ . The gorgeously refinished herringbone hardwood floors covered the length of the open floor plan, leading her eyes towards the original stone fireplace nestled into the wall farthest from the door. The kitchen boasted modern amenities and contemporary luxury and yet the style of the apartment itself was brimming with old world charm and beauty with it’s 3.5 metre tall ceilings and antique, French style windows.

Flanked with three hundred year old wooden beams integrated right into the white plaster, Marinette made her way up the wooden and metal spiral staircase to the second level to find a master bedroom worthy of a king and queen. Two more bedrooms and bathrooms made up the rest of the historic duplex and quite frankly, Marinette was completely smitten.

Until she saw the price.

Except...

Well, Adrien could actually afford the huge increase in rent and as much as she was loathe to ride on his coattails, her boyfriend quickly reminded her that she was making a decent wage at Colette Paris too. So once Adrien had done the math — something he could do in his head, even with enormous numbers — Marinette simply couldn't say no.

That, and the natural light that poured in through the windows would be  _ perfect _ for taking photos of her designs.

But back to the brilliant plan.

It’s nearly 03:00 and they’d both booked the day off tomorrow so that they could perform this particular operation as smoothly as they could without having to worry about getting up and working in the morning. Ladybug gives her partner a fist pump at the halfway point between their old and new apartments and drops off boxes she’d never be able to hold as Marinette on the roof before heading back to the old one to pick up another gargantuan load.

Being a superhero is the  _ best. _

Two hours later and the old apartment is as spartan as it was when they’d first walked in three years ago, all roughed up parcade flooring and low ceilings that Adrien moaned about on the regular. It didn’t help that it was all closed in too, no open spaces to let in all of the beautiful light that a south facing apartment could offer, but this apartment was soon to be just another memory. The one in  _ Le Marais _ was going to be a lot more fun.

Swooping across the streets of Paris never loses its charm and when Ladybug lands on the roof of their new place and flips inside the wide open doors of their seventh floor balcony with the last of their belongings, she can already see it coming together. Chat is holding a couch in one hand and a chaise in the other, his eyes roving from side to side as he kicks the rolled up Persian area rug he’d ordered from Dubai last month open across the floor.

“What do you think M’Lady? Should we aim the couch towards the TV or the window?”

“The couch should be against the wall,” she says, pointing to the 18th century loveseat she’d resurfaced and reupholstered herself, “And the chaise can go in the bedroom that we’re turning into an office since it doesn’t match the aesthetic of this room.”

“You sure you don’t want it in the master?”

Ladybug easily lifts up the couch’s matching chair and angles it just so, plopping the coffee table down in the middle of the rug to frame both pieces of furniture, “I’m still not sure yet. Do you have the bed set up?”

“Yep,” he nods, setting the chaise on its side and leaning it up gently against the freshly painted walls, “But can I have your help in the dining area first? I may have nine lives, but you’ve always been better at installing light fixtures.”

Ladybug snickers, “I always did like you with curly hair.”

“And I’d rather not use an electric current to get a perm, thank you very much,” Chat snarks back, hefting Ladybug on his shoulders and passing her the chandelier, “By the way, did you decide on a table yet?”

“I’ve got two in mind,” Ladybug twists the frayed end of the old black wire and connects it to the new one, “I was thinking about going circular, to be honest.”

“I like it,” Chat responds, sounding suitably impressed, “What colour?”

Ladybug adjusts the chain to the proper height and asks him for the screwdriver, “Same stain as the living room furniture. I’m going to have the table delivered to my parent’s place so I can sand it down there. I just can’t decide whether I want the one with the open base pairs with an extendable top or the more modern geometric one.”

Chat gently sets her down and they both glance up at the gorgeous vintage chandelier Adrien had found while fundraising in Toulouse last October, “Use your gut. That’s how you found all the rest of this awesome furniture.”

“They don’t call me Lady Luck for nothing,” she nudges him in the ribs with her elbow and kisses him on the cheek, “Now, to figure out the bedroom.”

“Ah yes, the bedroom,” Chat throws that Cheshire grin her way, wiggling his eyebrows for good measure, “Isn’t it about time we christen the apartment?”

“In your dreams, Chaton.”

~

They say it's better to bite your tongue than eat your words but Marinette is hardly complaining as Adrien hoists her onto the kitchen counter only a few minutes later and thrusts into her, tugging on her earlobe with his teeth like the snack that she is. She throws her head back and moans, grappling his shoulders and angling her hips just right, driving him just that little bit deeper.

“I didn’t know the heat was starting to— _ ah, Adrien! _ —bother you, you should have— _ uh, _ just said!”

“You've been…” Adrien buries his face in the juncture of her neck and swallows against the building pressure at the base of his spine, “...kinda busy.”

“So?” Marinette’s toes curl as his teeth sink into her skin, “That hasn't— _ ah! _ stopped you before.”

“I was just,” Adrien groans and tries to stay focused, “...trying to be considerate.” 

“ _ Nngh _ ,” Marinette can hardly keep herself contained, “Considerate?”

“You're— _ god, Marinette _ —you said you weren't feeling it yet and I didn't want to—hey!”

Frowning, Marinette stops the rhythm of their hips with a push on his shoulders, “Adrien, this is one of those things neither of us can control. You need to be honest with me about your needs.”

“I…” Adrien reddens and looks away, “I try to...”

Marinette cocks her head to the side, “...try to what?”

He swallows thickly, “I try to tell you what I need but...look, do we have to talk about this now? Little Chat is giving me hell here.”

“Did you just—” Marinette’s memories of their previous conversation suddenly dissolve into snickers, “Please don't tell me that you just referred to your penis as Little Chat.”

He grins, “Well, what else do you think I call it?”

Breaking into laughter, Adrien resumes fucking her and she hardly has the frame of mind to think back on their conversation until they've had sex on the couch, the bathroom sink, the cabinet by the front door and finally, the master bedroom’s mattress. Their springtime fever is always fun when it comes down to it, but with her partner's soft snuffles coming from beside her as the morning light pours in through the windows, Marinette has one of those unpleasant realisations that she’d really have rather avoided.

~

Okay.

So it’s time to talk about the elephant in the room. 

But, with that being said, it may have been time to do a lot of things. She has an enormous laundry list of things to do: finish furnishing their new apartment, buy groceries, sew the rest of their comforter together, sand down the flea market dining room table that had just been delivered to the bakery, finish the prèt-à-porter fall designs for next Tuesday...

...but none of this is actually being done at the moment, to be perfectly honest. It’s like she’s back to her old ways, revolving around trying to confess to Adrien as a teenager only to choke on her own tongue and face plant into a wall every time.

So she calls Alya and, unsurprisingly, Alya tells her exactly what she already knows and simply doesn’t want to acknowledge.

_ “Adrien’s been acting weird for a while, but that’s nothing new,” _ Alya explains, the keys of her laptop clicking over the receiver,  _ “And as for not listening to him about his wants and needs lately, he’s probably right. You have been pretty out to lunch lately.” _

“I’ve been busy,” Marinette chirps back, as if this is actually a redeemable excuse, “And I’m not blind. I know what he wants from me.”

_ “Sex, obviously.” _

Marinette’s face flushes, “Not just that, Alya. He brought up having kids last month!”

_ “Uh…” _ Alya trails off,  _ “Because that’s what people in a normal, healthy relationship talk about? He wants to talk to you about what he’d like out of your relationship in the future. I’m pretty sure he didn’t mean, ‘Hey babe, let’s pop one out right now’.” _

“You don’t know that.”

_ “Uh, yeah. I do. Nino and I have the same conversation all the time.” _

Marinette hums, still unconvinced.

_ “Look, Nino and I talk about these things so that when the time comes, there aren’t any surprises. I know that he intends to propose once the summer circuit is over and he’s made enough bank to buy me that ring I’ve had my eye on for months and he knows that I don’t want to get married until Nora is back from Thailand, which is not for another year and a half. We’ve both decided to wait until our late twenties to have kids unless something happens and then we’ll just treat it like the blessing it is. We’re planned and ready. We’ve put it all out on the table so there are no disagreements in the future and just in case, we revisit our plan a few times a year to make sure nothing has changed.” _

“That sounds....” Marinette gulps, “...okay, maybe you’re right.”

_ “Girl, I’m always right. Look, he’s been talking about making it official with you since forever,”  _ Alya announces as if Marinette is being deliberately dense, which, fair point, _ “So just let him propose! You don’t have to get married and have kids right away. It isn’t a race, but it’s important to him.” _

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready!” Marinette responds, knowing full well that she’s lying to herself; she’d happily be listening to wedding bells if she didn’t have the memento of Nooroo’s absence dwelling in the shadows of her thoughts, “I’m just getting used to my new responsibilities at work! I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Marinette can practically hear the look of disdain on Alya’s features through the speaker,  _ “You’ve been working for the couture line for a couple weeks now, I think you’ve more than adjusted.” _

She harrumphs for lack of anything better to say as Alya continues,  _ “Look girl, this isn’t going to end well if you keep holding back. Adrien’s going to start getting suspicious about why you’re still putting him off and the last thing you want is for Adrien to think that you’re hiding something from him.” _

That particular comment cuts deeper than she’d anticipated, “I’m not hiding anything from Adrien. I…" Marinette can't tell Alya the truth about Nooroo either, "…I just want to devote my everything into our wedding and I can’t right now because of work!”

_ “But you’re not getting married right now Mari, don’t you get it?” _ Alya grumbles in frustration,  _ “You’re just getting engaged.” _

“Which leads to marriage.”

_ “Of course it does,”  _ Alya audibly rolls her eyes,  _ “I wish you’d stop and just listen to yourself, girl. Obtuse doesn’t look good on you.” _

Marinette is feeling far more attacked than she initially thought she would at the beginning of this conversation, “I can’t believe you’re taking his side on this!”

_ “There shouldn’t be any sides, Marinette,”  _ Alya responds, her voice tinged with sympathy,  _ “Adrien loves you and you love him back, right?” _

She sighs, “Yes.”

_ “Then this is a non-issue. Have an honest conversation with him and let the guy propose. Yeah, it’s gonna make the press, but no biggie. You’ve handled worse before. You’ll do fine, and you’ll have the happiest fiancé in the world. It’s a win-win in my opinion.” _

And Alya is right of course, not that Marinette wants to admit it. It takes her another day of skirting around the subject with Adrien to drum up the courage and a long conversation with her mother after their weekly Sunday meal down in the bakery to get over herself and put a plan into motion. 

“Finally,” Sabine’s shoulders drop in relief, “I thought you’d never let him ask.”

Marinette purses her lips, “Am I the only one who can’t see that this is a lot to handle?”

“No,  _ mon chou _ , you’re not,” Sabine replies, taking Marinette’s hands into her own, “And you know Papa and I will support any decision you make about this, but we would really,  _ really _ love to see Adrien propose to you once and for all.”

“I know, I know,” Marinette says, her resolve dissolving under her mother’s doleful gaze, “I’m starting to feel bad for putting this off for so long.”

“Don’t feel bad because of how you feel,” Sabine smoothes her fingers over the backs of her daughter’s hands, “Change has always been tough on you, especially when you were growing up. I’m proud of you for trying to take a step forward on your own this time.”

“Thanks Maman,” Marinette replies, squaring her shoulders. She’ll do it tonight. It’s now or never.

She’s going to tell Adrien she’s ready to be his wife.

“Woooooo…” she breathes, her heartbeat wreaking havoc on her lungs as she exhales. Her jittery steps up the stairs to her parent’s apartment make the floorboards squeak with every stride and Marinette can hardly wait to leave after their visit so she can sit him down at their newly stained dining room table at home and just tell him already.

Opening the door to her childhood home, she finds both her boyfriend and her father sprawled across the couch in various states of disheveled disarray, shovelling different flavours of off cuts from the fudge they’d made earlier into their mouths as they watch the news on TV.

"There was a break in at Ferrero’s Boulangerie Patisserie? That’s a shame; the Ferrero’s are honest people."

Adrien smacks his lips, "I hope they didn't steal all their dough."

"Hopefully the police aren't loafing around either," Tom nods, his eyes tracking the headline, "If anything is missing, I know Sabine would be happy to give them a dough-nation."

"Are they on the yeast side or the west side of Montparnasse?"

"It's just across the road from  _ La Rotonde _ ," Tom belches rather loudly, "I hope this isn’t a cereal break-in problem.”

“Well, this guy will be toast if he gets caught.”

“Unless things go a-rye,” Tom hands Adrien the last piece of penuche and takes a slice of maple walnut for himself, “He’d be a real gluten for punishment if he tried to break-in here.”

“He’d definitely get a rise out of us,” Adrien points his thumb to his chest, still unaware of Marinette’s presence behind them, “A little roughing up by Chat Noir and Ladybug would certainly put the icing on the cake.”

“And everything would be right as grain again.”

“Exactly,” Adrien pulls apart a chunk of praline fudge and catches the gooey, stretchy ribbons of caramel with his tongue, “I feel bad for the owners, to be perfectly honest. This is, after all, their bread and butter.”

“I donut think they’ll be down and out for too long,” Tom responds, somehow still saying all of this with a completely straight face, “The restaurant and patisserie community around here always rises to the occasion when one of us gets in a crummy situation.”

“A fundraiser to help them get back on their feet would really take the cake.”

“I’ll run it pie the Ferrero’s and see what they think,” Tom nods in consideration, “If they run a social media campaign, they should be able to drum up some support from the Montparnasse community. It's the yeast they can do to support their favou-rye-t bakery.”

“Alright, I can’t take it anymore!” Marinette interrupts them with a laugh, shaking her head in exasperation, “As much as I love hearing the two of you bond over baking puns, we really  _ knead _ to get going.”

“ _ Ehhhhhh _ ,” Adrien draws his finger guns, pointing them at Marinette with a gleeful expression. Nothing could spark Adrien’s adoration quite like a well placed pun and Marinette gently exploits that from time to time just to see the twinkle in his eyes, “Thanks for dinner, Papa. It’s been a slice!”

Marinette watches, bemused as Tom pulls him in for an enormous embrace, “You two are adorable.”

“We know,” Tom says with a wink, “Are you coming over for the game on Tuesday?”

“ _ Paris Saint Germain _ versus  _ Nantes _ , are you kidding me?” Adrien exclaims, hauling himself off the couch, “I can’t wait!”

“I’ll make my famous Dupain  _ galette-saucisses _ !”

Marinette suddenly regrets having to work Tuesday afternoon, “Will you save a few for me?”

Tom walks around the couch and pats her on the shoulder, “I’ll send some home with him, although I can’t guarantee they’ll make it to you.”

“Hey now, I have self control,” says Adrien, conveniently ignoring the now empty box of fudge sitting on their coffee table, “I’ll pack them in your lunch box!” he turns back to Tom, “I bought her this really cute one while I was perusing through the  _ Marché aux Puces de St-Ouen _ the other day and I just had to get it for her.”

“You’re always spoiling my favourite daughter,” Tom laughs, the sound reverberating through his chest as he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m your only daughter, Papa.”

“Which is why you’re my favourite,” Tom leads them both towards the doorway, “Don’t forget to say goodbye to Maman before you go.”

“We will,” Marinette responds, thanking Adrien as he helps her with her coat, “Enjoy your anniversary dinner tomorrow!”

“I will,” Tom presses a kiss to Marinette’s forehead and buries Adrien in another burly embrace, “Sweet and sour dough dreams to you both!”

“Yes Papa,” Marinette rolls her eyes with a laugh and with one final goodbye to Sabine, they make it outside.

“I guess the cat’s out of the baguette, huh?”

Marinette turns to face him, shoving her hands inside her pockets to stave off the February, “What, that you’re going over to watch football games with Papa? Because it's not a problem. I'm happy the two of you love to spend time together.”

"It is nice," he says, his voice warm with feeling, "I like having a father again, even if I never really had one to begin with."

"You did when you were younger," Marinette begins leading them along the sidewalk, "You always told me that he used to be kind."

"Well, it's easy to forget the good times when the press likes to remind me that he's a psychopath terrorist every few weeks."

"Yeah…" Marinette trails off, tugging her hood over her head, "I mean, I haven't seen anything about him in the news lately."

"But May is only two and a half months away," Adrien shrugs and Marinette wonders why his mood has changed from happy to contemplative so suddenly, “And it’ll be the fourth anniversary of his arrest. One year from now and it’ll be a milestone.”

"Are you feeling okay, Adrien?"

"It's just the heat," Adrien replies, his voice strained, "You know how it is at the beginning. I can't always control the mood swings, especially when I start thinking about _ him _ ."

"Right," Marinette links her arm with his as they approach the intersection and hopes the added touch between them will help soothe his frazzled nerves, "I’m sorry about...you know."

"It's fine," he says, stopping at the red light beside her, "It's not like you can force yourself to feel something your body isn't feeling, especially since we're so out of sync all of the sudden."

Marinette swallows nervously, "I promise to help you. Anytime you need me, just tell me."

“I know,” he drags his toe along the snow-covered sidewalk, tracing the pattern he makes with his eyes, “It’s just been getting kind of lonely with you at work all the time.”

She tips her head to the side, “You know I can’t help it, Chaton. I’m the new couture designer—”

“—and they keep giving you all the jobs the other couture designers don’t want, I know that,” Adrien interrupts, still not meeting her gaze, “My offer still stands, you know.”

“I’m not using Gabriel’s money to start up my business,” Marinette insists for the hundredth time, crossing her arms across her chest, “That’s your money, not mine.”

“It would be your money if you’d let me propose.”

Her argument stands upon the edge of a pin and Marinette desperately wants to pop the balloon they’re sitting on, “Adrien, about that—”

“I know,” he says as if he really doesn’t, his bright smile from a few minutes earlier hanging listless on his lips, “You’re too busy to plan a wedding or design a wedding dress and you don’t want me spending a fortune on an engagement ring and you don’t want to be the first in our friend group to get married because then all the attention will be on you and you don’t ever want to be the centre of attention so you’d rather just wait three decades until all our friends have been married and divorced five times over so you have a really good idea of what you want and don’t want in a wedding—”

Marinette gapes, “That’s not true!”

“It is true and you know it,” Adrien finally locks eyes with her, his stare so much sharper than usual; she forgets, sometimes, how discerning he can be, “But it’s fine, because I’ve made peace with it.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Adrien’s eyes take on that dangerous glow, his powers thrumming beneath his skin; for all of his therapy and meditation and whatever else he’s been trying to keep his temper at bay, Adrien is and always will be a dormant volcano just waiting to devour, “If you want to get married, fine. And if you don’t? It’s cool. I just...I’m kind of getting sick of asking a brick wall.”

Marinette’s jaw falls slack.

“Maman and Papa and our friends are always asking when I’m going to propose and I keep telling them that we’ll be ready soon but you know what? I’ve been ready for years! And I’ve been bottling this up for so long because I don’t want to make you sad or upset and you always get huffy whenever I bring it up and—” Adrien shakes himself, desperate to burn off his pent up frustration, “Look, I get it. You’re always busy and weddings take a lot of planning and you use that as an excuse all the time, but I figured you out long ago. I know that the  _ real _ reason you don’t want to get married to me is because you’d rather stick to the status quo since a new Le Papillon could come and uproot our lives at any moment. So, yeah. I get it. I just don’t see why we have to put our entire lives on hold because of a hypothetical threat to Paris.”

Her entire world drops out from under her feet in the face of the truth, “That’s not the real reason—”

“It’s  _ absolutely _ the real reason and you know it,” Adrien presses, “We can’t lie to each other anymore. We know each other’s tells and I know you try to convince yourself of these things because that’s what you do. You hate change, even though I hint for it constantly. I want to try new things, Marinette!” he signs, tugging on his sleeves, “And you catastrophize constantly, which is fine, I know you’re working on it and you’re a lot better than you used to be, but I still can’t figure out why you’re holding on to this concern when there’s literally been no magical attacks in three years!”

Marinette gathers her wits about her, “Nooroo and the Peacock Miraculous are still out there!”

“So what? They’ve been missing since Master Fu destroyed the temple in Tibet! And that was over two hundred years ago!”

“Ugh,” Marinette pulls at her ponytails, “Do we have to talk about this right now? I have to work tomorrow—”

“You always have to work,” Adrien grumbles, sidestepping into a nearby alley and transforming, “I’ll see you at home later. I need to blow off some steam.”

“Adrien...” Marinette reaches out, watching him vault into the sky without so much of a rebuttal. 

~

It's early evening the next day and although Adrien looks fairly well rested and alert, she can feel the irritation coming off of him in droves. It's likely the way she’s acting, which is quiet and cagey and horribly doubtful, something she’s usually not; it's not annoying per se, but it feels oppressive in their otherwise brand new airy apartment as she pulls the rest of the dishes from the packing paper and arranges them in the cupboards, gnawing on her lower lip all the while.

She turns around to grab another box and drinks him in, the sharp line of his jaw, his shaggy unbrushed hair made even brighter as he strikes a beam of setting sunlight flooding through the balcony doors. He tucks some of it behind his ear and she follows the curve of it with her eyes, watching as his tongue peeks out from between his lips in concentration, his green eyes focused on the box in his hands. He’s beautiful in every sense of the word, gentle and generous, understanding and smart. He’s been through so much only to come out kinder, and Marinette can hardly stand the way he steals her breath away at the realisation of how far they’d come.

So it should be fairly obvious that they should get engaged, get married and start a family. They’re happy, in love, employed…everything is going right, so what’s holding her back?

Like a warning, her Miraculous grows warm against her ears.

“Adrien?”

“Yes?”

She swallows uncomfortably as he turns towards her and his expression is so open, so raw and honest that it makes her chest hurt, “Can we talk?”

The sunkissed glow of his skin seems to leech out of him, “Not this again.”

“I’m so sorry,” Marinette struggles to form the words, her heart pounding traitorously against her ribcage, “but I’m...I’m so scared right now.”

He's at her side in a second, “Scared? Scared of what? What's going on?”

“I'm...I…” Marinette flounders, failing to find her words and when she does, it comes out all at once, “I don’t know what to do!”

“Whoa,” Adrien recoils just a little, hesitating before pulling her into his arms and sitting down on the closest kitchen chair, “Where's this all coming from?”

“You’re right and I’m wrong and this is  _ awful! _ ” Marinette’s eyes are suddenly filled with tears and she hates it, “What if there’s another Le Papillon? What if we get married and have kids and Nooroo finds someone evil and comes back for revenge? We’ll be putting everyone we love in danger!”

“ _ Merde _ ,” Adrien mutters, pressing a kiss against her bare shoulder, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“But you wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it!” Marinette's voice falters and Adrien doubles down, tightening his grip around her waist, “I just...I don’t...I don’t know what to do!”

“I...do you want me to be honest here?”

“Yes!” Marinette warbles, her lashes heavy with tears.

He takes a deep breath and lets it out, “I just really want us to be a family.”

“Adrien, we  _ are _ a family,” she insists, fighting the tightness in her throat, “You have me and my parents and our friends!” 

“And I know that,” he bunts his head against her arm and releases another heavy breath, the rush of air against her skin giving her goosebumps, “But it would be nice to make it official.”

Marinette’s guilt burns like a flare in her abdomen.

“Look,” he interrupts just as she's about to respond, “I know you don't want to get married or have kids right now because of...well, I know that being superheroes and parents probably doesn’t mix very well. I get it and that's fine, I understand too. I’ve thought about it myself, so I know. But you've always had an awesome family to fall back on and amazing parents to support you, and I'm not saying that you don't understand, but it's...you're the only family that I have, you and Tom and Sabine. I want that. I want that more than anything.”

“But you  _ do _ have that!”

“But for how long?” Adrien’s voice rises, a direct contrast to how his hands only tighten around her middle, “I love you so much and I just want to be with you forever! I want to spend the rest of my life with you! But suddenly our heats are out of sync and you’re always at work—I don’t even know if you’re still in love with me anymore!”

“What?!” Marinette gasps, “Of course I’m—Adrien, I’m still in love with you!”

“Then why won’t you let me ask you to be my wife?!”

There's a long, terrible beat of silence and Marinette sees her whole world fall cold in front of her eyes. How could she be so stupid? There's nothing she can say to that, no words to brush this over, so she just sits still as he mashes his face against her t-shirt like the cat that he is.

_ “Oh.” _

They don't say much after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavy once again with the foreshadowing, I just wanted to assure you that this is the angstiest chapter of Bound. It all goes up from here! I focused on a lot of subtlety with the nuances of these characters and their personalities, particularly with how their canon characters react to conflict and change. It's been three stories worth of taking that and determining how their flaws will affect them as adults trying desperately to be normal when they're nothing of the kind.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Leave comment if you enjoyed!


	5. Dinner First, Then Dessert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *'What A Man Gotta Do' by The Jonas Brothers playing softly in the distance*
> 
> Let's be honest, that is the _ultimate_ pining!Adrien song.

Marinette should probably be working. In fact, she should probably be doing any number of things that she has to do as part of her responsibilities at work but here she is, curled up in an empty boardroom scrolling through the engagement ring tag on Instagram. It’s what she needs to distract herself against the storm brewing inside of her, the realisation that she’s a complete and total overanalyzing, self centered  _ dumbass _ weighing heavy on her mind.

How did she get to this stunning conclusion? History, and it has a tendency to repeat itself. 

Many moons ago, Marinette had decided to withhold her feelings for her partner in hopes of sticking to the status quo and she’d nearly ruined her relationship with her partner as a result. And now look at her, favouring the status quo once again! Ignoring her partner’s needs once again! Putting her own comfort and need for control above the feelings of the love of her life once again!

Marinette sets her mobile down on the table and buries her face in her hands, groaning as loudly as she can get away with. She tucks her knees beneath her chin and tries her very best to twist herself into the smallest ball possible; it’s time to get her head out of her ass and strike a compromise with Adrien, but she has to apologise first, and how? The first time she’d apologized for ignoring how her actions were affecting him had resulted in a sex tape that had set the world on fire, and while she has no intention of making up to him in public this time around, she certainly has to do something spectacular. She knows how much he loves grandiose romantic gestures more than anyone…

Marinette has always been a planner. She’s good at organising and she’s good at controlling a situation, so she knows she’s got the skills to do this. The guts on the other hand?

Picking her mobile back up off the table, she stands and brushes off her skirt. 

She’s got work to do.

~

The scene is set.

Roses, candles, a romantic evening for two. She's studied his favourite romantic comedies (how many times can one human being watch Love Actually?) and scoured the internet for the best tips on how to romance him so hard that she'll be sweeping him off his feet in no time flat. She's got her best dress on and his favourite pair of lingerie underneath and his favourite meal cooking in the oven...

Now she just has to wait.

Marinette knows she can't just brush this over but she'll be damned if she doesn't at least try.

She gets up to help Tikki fix one of the strands of fairy lights that she's draped over the windows and thanks the kwami with a quick kiss, setting her gently on her shoulder, “Do you think he'll like it?”

“I think he'll love it!” Tikki responds with a giggle, clapping her paws, “I have a little surprise set for Plagg too so you two can have your privacy.”

“Yeah?” Marinette raises a brow, honestly curious, “What do you have planned?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” the kwami responds coyly, “But I know he's going to love it.”

“Is that why you were googling cheese the other day?” Marinette snickers, flopping onto the nearest chair.

“Yes!” Tikki laughs, “It's been hiding in the fridge for the last two days! I'm surprised Plagg hasn't found it yet.”

“That’s because Plagg hasn’t really been here for the last two days,” Marinette frowns, fiddling with her bracelet, “Adrien’s been kind of avoiding me since...well, you know.”

“He just needed his space, that’s all,” Tikki floats upwards, leaving tiny sparkles in her wake, “I talked to him last night while you were sleeping.”

Marinette swallows the lump in her throat, “You did? What did he say?”

“He said that he’s sorry he’s putting too much stress on you.”

“Ughh,” Marinette barely resists the urge to rub her face into her palms with frustration, “Why is he always like this?”

“You mean, why is he always so kind and thoughtful and mindful of your feelings?”

“Yes!” Marinette waves her hands around her head, “And why am I so bad at it?!”

“You’re not bad at it,” Tikki assures her, “You just need to be reminded of the big picture sometimes. Adrien is your other half, your Chat Noir, your soulmate, and just like every Ladybug before you, he’s going to drive you crazy. He’s going to make you question yourself, challenge yourself and see things differently because that’s what partners do. He loves you more than anything and you know it, but how have your recent actions reflected the love you have for him?”

Marinette slumps forwards, her abdomen resting on her thighs as she lets her head droop between her knees, “I let him pick the apartment?”

“Except you fought with him about the budget the whole time,” Tikki responds matter-of-factly, “But you both came to a compromise. Why?”

“Because I listened,” Marinette grumbles back, having had this conversation with her kwami before, “And listening is what he needs. Talking is his love language.”

“Exactly! So tonight when he starts talking, don’t interrupt. Let him say what he needs to say. Don’t interrupt him for the sake of your perfect evening. If you fight, you fight. If you make up, even better! Just be patient because he has been more than patient with you.”

“Mmhmm,” Marinette kind of hates it when Tikki lays it out for her like this knowing full well that she’s been too blind to see it for herself, “Thank you Tikki.”

“You’re welcome! Now sit up and fix your lipstick, I can feel Plagg’s presence growing stronger.”

She straightens with a jerk and runs over to the nearest reflective surface, her heels clacking against the hardwood floors, “How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Tikki nudges her cheek, “Now go and show him what kind of romantic softie you truly are.”

_ “Tikki,” _ Marinette admonishes playfully, nudging her in the belly, “How dare you reveal my darkest secrets?”

The kwami’s giggles fill the space, “I live inside your head, remember? Oh, here he comes!”

Tikki zooms out of sight and Marinette takes a deep breath as the doorknob rattles, popping open to reveal the silhouette she’d been dying to see all day step through the threshold. He looks tired and she can hardly resist the urge to run up to him but she knows she can’t, not until she shares what she has to say.

“Hey.”

Adrien spins around from where he’d been dropping his keys in the bowl by the door and looks about, his lips falling open as he soaks in the scene, “Uh…”

“So I...um…” Marinette ducks her head from where she’s still standing frozen in the middle of the expansive space, her ankle wiggling back and forth anxiously in her stiletto, “I made you dinner.”

Adrien nods dumbly and glances around again, “Did you redecorate?”

“Just for tonight,” she replies in a rush, looking up at him beneath the fringe of her bangs, “I...I wanted tonight to be special.”

“Oh,” Adrien sets his work bag down on the floor and slips his shoes off, “Is that pastry I smell?”

“ _ Tarte tatin aux tomates _ , your favourite.”

“Huh,” he blinks owlishly, following his nose into the kitchen, “And is that...lamb?”

“ _ Carré d'agneau en croûte de moutarde et miel. _ ”

“No....” Adrien folds his lanky form in half and peeks in through the oven’s door, “Like the one we had on our first date? The one I loved?”

“That’s the one,” Marinette confirms, still rooted to her spot, “I found a copycat recipe online and spent all afternoon preparing it just to make it right. You know, it has almost forty steps in the recip _ uumph!” _

Adrien closes the gap between them in a heartbeat, dragging her forwards and kissing her and Marinette is frozen for a moment, gauging the situation before ultimately kissing him back. He smells like rain and fresh air and she wonders how long he’d stayed out as Chat Noir last night, prowling the streets without her as she laid comfortably in bed, wondering about all the things she’s been doing wrong and suddenly she’s pulling away, pressing her palms flat against his chest as if to steady herself, gasping from the weight of it all.

“I’m sorry for everything,” she admits, her fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his shirt, “I’ve been so focused on myself that I haven’t thought about what you want.”

“I just want us to be happy,” he replies and there’s a horribly desperate edge to it that makes her stomach twinge, “And I’m happy so long as I’m with you.”

“And I’m never leaving your side, I promise,” she assures him, finally looking up to face him, “But it’s high time I realise that the world doesn’t revolve around me, so I got you something.”

She’s been practicing what she’s been wanting to say all day but, looking into his eyes, she never thought it would be this easy, “I...well, I love you. I love you more than anything, and I want everyone to know it so...Adrien Agreste, will you marry me?”

It’s probably the silliest thing she’s ever done as she slides down onto one knee and presents him with a plastic Chat Noir replica ring from where she’d hid it inside her bra, “What do you say, Chaton?”

A myriad of emotions take over his face in a flurry of motion she can hardly follow, let alone focus on as her heart beats a tattoo inside her chest. There’s shock of course, followed by surprise and delight and he’s suddenly on his knees in front of her, wrapping her in the tightest and wettest hug she’s ever received because of course he’s crying, hiccupping against her skin and Marinette doesn’t know whether to cringe or to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes?”

Too overcome for words, Adrien just nods into the crook of her neck and pushes her over onto the Persian rug, squashing her with his body and Marinette begins to giggle in earnest, still clutching the black and green plastic ring from the souvenir store in her grasp. With great effort, Marinette fishes for his left hand and manages to slip it onto his ring finger as he continues to make all sorts of bizarre noises, face down and flat out of top of her and they must look positively ridiculous, just the two of them, and Marinette simply cannot be arsed to care.

“Chat got your tongue, mon Minou?” she asks and Adrien just starts crying even harder, “Oh my god, are you going to be okay?”

He shakes his head against her neck and continues to sob, “I want to stay like this forever.”

“Dinner is going to burn,” Marinette smiles fondly.

“Don’t care.”

“ _ Tarte tatin aux tomates _ ,” she sing songs, ignoring his mumbled grunt, “Lamb just the way you like it!”

“Hmmm…” he finally lifts his head from the floor and he's red and swollen and there are tear tracks everywhere, “I’d rather just eat you.”

She swats him, “Dinner first, then dessert.”

“Oooooh,” he’s up on his feet within a matter of seconds and he bends down, hauling her up from the floor as well, “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Marinette grins as he reaches down to cup her ass through her dress, “Can we please have dinner now? I worked really hard on this.”

He eventually concedes, but not without another quick squeeze that earns him a smack to the bicep, “Does this mean I get to buy you an engagement ring now?”

“It does,” Marinette responds and it feels good to say it out loud, her heart spasming in her chest at the thought, “White gold, not yellow. Small, delicate, nothing gaudy. And pink, if possible.”

“ _ Oui Madame _ ,” he says with a mock salute, handing her the oven gloves as she bends over to check the meal, “Anything else?”

She pulls out the tarte tatin and the lamb and sets it on the stovetop, her eyes glittering, “I know how much you love to go all out, so have fun with it. Whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” Adrien is practically bouncing up and down on his toes and Marinette is quite sure he’s going to break out into screams if she doesn’t reign him in.

“Just no restaurants. I don’t want our engagement to end up on the front page of the news.”

“Got it!” 

“And please don’t spend a year’s worth of your salary on the ring.”

“This is going to be awesome!!!”

“Adrien?”

But he’s already dancing around the kitchen, “I have to text Nino and Alya and your parents and  _ oh! _ We should take one of those engagement ring selfies! You know the ones where the girl holds out her ring and then the two of us are blurry in the background? Except it’s me and my Chat Noir ring!”

“That was a joke, Adrien,” Marinette slips the tarte tatin onto the plate and looks back up at him, mildly horrified, “You’re not actually going to wear it are you?”

“Are you kidding?!” Adrien finally stops dancing only to spin on his toes and throw himself onto the couch, “I’m going to wear it  _ forever _ !”

“Seriously?” 

“This is the best day of my  _ life!” _

In hindsight, if Marinette had known that this was how he was going to react to getting engaged, she would have done it long ago, “Chaton, can you help me grab the platter? It’s on the top shelf.”

“Of course,  _ ma future épouse _ ,” he leaps to his feet and slides across the floor on his socks, sneaking a quick kiss on the cheek before reaching up on his tiptoes and grabbing the platter for her, “Anything for you.”

“Anything for  _ you _ ,” she corrects him, tipping her chin up in time to see him smile, “Now go sit down and pour the wine. I’ll be over in just a moment.”

**~**

There are hundreds of things that she loves about Adrien. She loves his smiles and his kisses and the way he struts around the house unconsciously. She loves the way his skin glows in the sun and she loves the way he bunts his head against things without actually realising it, his kwami’s characteristics having bled through their connection over the years. She loves the way he curls his toes when he gets excited and she loves the way he loses his marbles every time he watches a  _ Paris Saint-Germain _ football game through the screen of his mobile, giggling all the while.

But she loves the sounds of his moans most of all.

She’s long slid down his body, peppering his skin with soft kisses until he’s practically begging for her to take his cock into her mouth. She finally puts him out of his misery, teasing him from root to tip just the way she knows he likes best so she can hear him moan her name again. They’ve done this a million times and it never gets old, crying out as he flops back against the pillows with his lidded eyes to stare holes into the ceiling because he just can’t handle how good it feels. The sensation of her tongue lapping around his cock, sucking him and tasting him until she’s shoved the entire length of him into the heat of her mouth leaves him absolutely reeling; his emotions are completely spent and she takes advantage of it as she bobs her head up and down, the wet sounds filling their airy bedroom until he can hardly stand it anymore, digging his fingernails into his palms as he tries not to come.

But it’s the humming that does him in.

Gasping, Adrien throws his forearm over his eyes and seizes, his toes scrabbling for purchase as he explodes in her grasp and he’s panting like all the breath has been punched out of him, his blood singing with the sensation coursing through his veins. He feels it in every nerve ending, every twitch and pull and  _ god, _ what did he do to deserve this?

He tries to say as much and all he gets is a laugh from between his thighs as he sags in weary relaxation.

“I told you I was going to treat you well tonight,” she rises breathlessly, her tongue darting out between her lips to lick the seed at the corner of her mouth, “Roll over and I’ll give you a massage.”

It’s tempting, but Adrien’s heat addled brain is telling him this night is far from over. 

He’s got her flipped onto her back in a matter of moments, her hair fanning out like a halo against the pillows as he latches onto her throat, teasing her with his tongue and teeth as he all but shoves her legs apart. She arches and wraps her arms around his neck to hold him closely, her breath coming out rough and shallow as the fingers of his free hand traces haphazard patterns and shapes against the sensitive skin of her thighs.

She gasps out loud as he drags his thumb up between her folds, damp enough that they’re practically sopping with her arousal and Adrien delights in the knowledge that it’s him and him alone that does this for her, who can work her up to such a state that she’s already bucking against him, whimpering against the shell of his ear. He slides two fingers inside of her and starts at a breakneck pace, curling them just enough to drive her senseless but not enough to bring her any lasting relief.

It was time for revenge.

Slipping out from beneath her grasp, Adrien slinks lower and captures her nipple between his lips, nudging it gently with his teeth. She likes it rough and he has every intention of giving her hell for making him wait this long to propose to her in the best way he knows how, “Hey Marinette?”

“Y-yes?”

Adrien takes his leisurely time finding her clit with his thumb and when he finally does, she’s helpless to do anything but tighten around his fingers, “So I was thinking…”

He breaks away from her breasts and gently tugs his fingers free, gripping her legs by the ankles and lifting them higher, “It took so long for us to get engaged...”

She’s practically glistening in the moonlight and he can hardly help himself, diving in with every intention of driving her senseless. She’s soaking wet as he lavishes her clit with his tongue, sucking it between his lips relentlessly only to drive his fingers back inside. He adjusts his rhythm so it’s not entirely constant and he revels in the frustrated groans she’s making, her thighs tightening around his shoulders in both pleasure and warning.

He’s tempted to add another finger when he notices the telltale signs of her orgasm approaching, her breath catching in her throat, her fingernails scratching against the sheets, the mindless babbling that he loves to listen to so much. Grinning in anticipation, he doubles down on her clit hard enough to elicit a scream and suddenly he’s sitting up with the biggest smirk he can muster, all Chat Noir and nothing else as he wipes her juices across his face with the back of his hand.

“...so it’s only fair that it takes you just as long to orgasm.”

Marinette’s furious growl at being left on the brink of orgasm turns into a look of sheer panic, “What?!”

“You heard me,” Adrien straightens up and puffs out his chest just so, sucking her essence from his fingers and releasing them with a pop, “I suffered for years.  _ Years. _ And now it’s my turn to hold out on you.”

“But—” Marinette’s protests sound more like choked sobs as she reaches down to finish the job but Adrien’s hand is already intervening, pinning it to her side.

“So I am going to make you beg,” he promises, delivering a near bruising kiss to her lips just so she can taste herself, “I’m going to make you  _ plead _ with me so you know what it feels like to be kept from the thing you want most in the world.”

“Please,” she whispers and Adrien actually has the nerve to laugh, towering over her again.

“It’s going to take a little more than that to convince me,” he rubs his burgeoning erection with his palm and smirks as her eyes immediately zero in on him, her thighs jolting with the urge to even the odds, “Sorry, not sorry.”

Marinette grits her teeth as he pins her other wrist to the mattress, “I kind of hate you.”

“And I love you unconditionally,” he snickers, placing another searing kiss against her lips, “But I’m still not going to give in. You deserve this.”

“Ugh,” Marinette sags limply back against the pillows, “I totally deserve this.”

Adrien falls down beside her, “Yup. So how does it feel?”

“Why are you so good at cockblocking me?”

“Good question!” he raises his finger up into the air, “It’s because I love you.”

“Are you actually going to deprive me of orgasms?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Until I feel like it.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

“You suck.”

“I do suck clit pretty well, now that you mention it.”

_ Smack! _

~

When he does finally relent after two hours of abject torture, Marinette comes harder than she ever has in her life. Her thighs are aching from being wound so tightly for so long but  _ god _ is it worth it in the end, what with the way her blood is still singing even minutes later. Boneless and sated beyond her wildest dreams, they fall asleep in each other's arms, unbeknownst to the odd glow that's slowly taking over their bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised it would get better from here! And I just _love_ writing Adrien as the sensitive soul that he is...going to therapy and having a healthy relationship with his demons have done him goooooood.
> 
> But, of course, I had to end it with some level of cliffhangery intrigue. It's what I do. I'm just as asshole like that.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	6. #yolo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is definitely one of my sillier ones. I love writing the dynamic between Adrien and the older, more mature Chloé that I've been concocting over the years of writing the Masqueverse. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it!

"I'M GONNA BE ADRIEN DUPAIN-CHENG!!!"

Jumping up and down on Chloé's California king, Adrien rejoices alongside his very best childhood friend until she can't take it anymore and joins him, screeching along with the lovesick fool Chloé loves so dearly. Whatever makes Adrien happy makes her happy by default, even if it's his dumb idiot of a fiancé.

"I can’t believe you’re finally getting hitched!" Chloé grabs his hands and bounces along with him, meaning every word. Adrien giggles with all the contagiousness of a delighted baby and soon Chloé is laughing along with him, jumping themselves silly.

"Will you be my best woman?" he asks, his bright green eyes brimming with excited tears. Chloé pinches his side for being such an infant (a common punishment considering her BFF has been crying over something at least once an hour these days) and snorts when he squirms away from the sting.

"Obviously," Chloé scoffs, "Who else would be able to put up with you on your wedding day? You're going to be a disaster."

That seems to do the trick; Chloé rolls her eyes as his excited tears start streaming down his face, "I’m just so happy right now!"

"God, there's no saving you," she pats his cheeks and he flops down onto the mattress just to get away from her abuse, "I'm going to have to call in at least twenty favours with Vincenzo just to make you look presentable."

"He’s is going to be so relieved when I tell him I’m finally engaged," Adrien blubbers, blowing his nose in a tissue, "Everytime he picks up his scissors to cut my hair, I'm always scared he's just going to stab me because all I do is complain about how I’m not allowed to put a ring on it."

"And now she finally put a ring on you," Chloé lays down beside him and props her head up with her palm, "At least, she's put a ring on your finger. I don’t know if she’s put a ring on  _ other _ parts of you."

"Chloé!" Adrien scolds her, his cheeks flaming with colour. Filterless and perpetually horny, Chloé rags on him about adding toys to spice up his and Marinette's sex life on the daily, "You know that she's never been into that kind of stuff!"

"But you said the pegging comment I suggested you try did the trick, right?" Chloé winks, basking in his embarrassment, "That's it, it's decided. I'm getting you a cock ring as an engagement present."

Adrien bats his hands at her, causing her to laugh even harder at his expense, "She would actually skin me alive if she knew how much I tell you about our sex life."

"That's only because I'm the brains behind this operation," she swishes her ponytail with a haughty smirk, "If it wasn't for me, you'd still be tying her up with ties and scarves like an amateur."

Adrien looks positively  _ wounded _ , "They were convenient at the time!"

"Like I said, amateur."

"I'm not an amateur," Adrien huffs, "I've improved. I'm trying to introduce new things."

"That’s only because I force your hand," Chloé rolls her eyes, knowing a lost cause when she sees one, "Like when I had all of that silk bondage rope gift wrapped and delivered to your door."

"I almost killed you for that," Adrien buries his face in her pillow and groans, "Marinette was so mad at me."

"But she took it out on you in the best of ways, eh?"

Adrien peeks at Chloé from his self imposed suffocation and wishes he could wipe the smug look off her face with his palm, "She tied me up for hours and I loved every minute of it."

" _ Theeeere _ we go," Chloé cackles, "That's the Adrien I know and love."

"Shut up," Adrien goes back to suffocating himself, cursing his stupid monkey brain for the wave of arousal that crash into him at the very memory of being bound and blissfully tortured.

"The heat's hitting you bad, isn't it?"

Chloé sounds half curious and half smug, which makes him feel even more self conscious, "...maybe."

His voice is hardly audible in his muffled despair but Chloé, as always, goes in for the kill, "And she's not, which is why you've literally been the human equivalent of a horny roller coaster for the last three weeks."

Adrien reveals his face once more, this time looking more like a kicked puppy than a successful CEO, "It's terrible and I hate it and I just want to have sex for twelve hours and then sleep for a week."

"And you say I'm dramatic," Chloé rolls her eyes, "Look, if she's not in the mood 24/7 like you are, there's nothing you can do about it, but at least start telling her you want to fuck her into next week instead of emoting all over my pillows everytime she goes to work."

"But she's busy," Adrien whines, kicking his legs to punctuate his very pertinent point, "And she knows, sort of. I told her back when we moved in that the heat was bugging me."

Chloé heaves the sigh of a woman whose truly had enough, "Then it's about time I intervene."

"What? No—”

"Trust me, you'll like it," Chloé rolls over and pushes herself to her feet, crossing the floor towards her walk in closet, "I bought this as a joke, not knowing you'd actually need it."

Reemerging from her gargantuan wardrobe, Chloé throws a little black box at his head. He catches it easily and slips open the lid just long enough to peek at what's inside before immediately slamming it shut, "Is that a—”

"—vibrator? Obviously," Chloé plunks back down beside him and snatches it out of his hands, "I know you think you don't deserve the Big O right now for whatever reason but you need to start focusing less on others and more on yourself. It's tiny, it's waterproof and even though I don't know if it works on dicks, it certainly works for me."

Plucking a vibrator about the size and length of her index finger from the silk lined box, Chloé jabs down on the button and watches as the little rubber powerhouse begins to buzz in her palm, "Just give it a try. And if you hate it? Throw it out, I don't care. I have twenty more where that came from."

Adrien gulps. Any other day, he'd be strongly declining her offer if only to pick up the pieces of his fractured dignity. But with the way his hormones have been running rampant and leaving him a hot mess of frenetic energy and frustrated tears, Adrien lets his body do the talking and snatches it back.

"I knew you'd go for it," Chloé's animalistic leer positively gleams in the sunlight, "Go home and take a shower with your new friend. I promise you'll be hanging from the rafters in no time."

~

Vibrators don’t have eyeballs, of course, but Adrien’s fairly sure that if they did, his would be glaring at him right now. With Marinette still out of the house until at least 18h, Adrien’s sex addled brain had taken Chloé’s advice and stripped naked the moment he got home, turning on the shower without actually thinking about anything he was doing.

And of course, just looking at the little cigar shaped bullet vibe already has his cock at half mast.

“Can you just hold yourself together for half a minute while I figure this out?” he grumbles down at his offending appendage which, again, doesn’t actually have ears to hear him with. Adrien is one hundred percent sure that he’s completely losing his sanity and just snatches the damn sex toy off the counter, lumbering inside.

The hot water feels fantastic on his skin and Adrien leans back against the cool shower tiles in relief as the dichotomy of the sensation washes over him, hot and cold and perfectly nice. His reprieve is short lived, however, and with a flick of his thumbnail, the vibrator buzzes to life.

It doesn’t take long.

Adrien, in times passed, had prided himself on his ability to hold out for the long run. His stamina had improved significantly since the days when he was seventeen and would come in the blink of an eye which, admittedly, he couldn’t be blamed for; having a hot partner in a skin tight suit rubbing her body all over you would do that to anyone. During that first spring together, it had taken quite a while to get his endurance under control and now he was the proud owner of a robust rod, a steadfast schlong, a persistent pecker, if you will.

Except, apparently, not anymore.

Grazing his thumb over his cock, Adrien presses the vibrator just below his belly button and practically loses the capacity to see for a moment, the rush of endorphins from the very notion of what he’s about to do all but blinding him. His breath is already coming in hard pants and he spreads his legs out just a little wider, propping one up onto the rim of their clawfoot tub. He slides the vibrator a little closer to the root of his shaft and feels his thighs strain a bit with the effort to not to just give in and jack himself off; Chloé assured him that the build up is what makes it so much more rewarding and who was he not to trust her?

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, running the side of the vibrator along the vee of his hips until it rests just shy of his sack and  _ fuck _ , it’s an entirely different feeling as he strokes his other hand over his cock, smearing his palm with precome. His hips jerk forwards and he can’t quite help himself any longer as he breathes out, staccato groans blending in with the pounding water of the shower as his outstretched leg begins to shake. He presses it to the underside of his erection and shouts, his thighs trembling with the new sensations that start to overwhelm him and it’s not even that intense, not really, but he’s so far gone that it doesn’t even matter. 

Ratcheting the vibrator up to the next level of intensity, Adrien runs it along his shaft and fucks himself with his other hand until he’s completely consumed by the buzzing that feels as if it’s radiating through him, pulsing from his centre to his fingers and toes. The buildup spurs him up one of the steepest orgasms of his life, truly coming out of nowhere and making his head churn with hormones and  _ oh god _ , he cries out her name as the sensation of the vibe against the head of his cock all but paralyses him like a lightning strike, sending his entire soul into orbit.

Adrien comes in thick ropes over his stomach and the reverberation is too much and not enough as he fumbles with the little device, dropping it onto the bottom of the tub as he loses all grip in his fingers. He sees stars and feels his teeth chatter, shuddering breath after shuddering breath draining the life out of him and he holds onto the tiles in an attempt to recover, bowing his back against the overwhelming desire to drop to his knees. 

“Good  _ god _ ,” Adrien finally manages to sputter, turning the water off and stumbling out of the shower. He plants the palms of his hands on the shower mat and lowers himself onto his haunches because he’s fairly sure his bones have been turned to gelatine and stares at the wall for a good five minutes until his brainstem decides to reboot the rest of his system. Awareness comes back slowly, startling him into actually being able to string a cohesive thought together, heedless of the way his toes continue to tingle.

Blindly fumbling for his phone, Adrien jabs the most recent number with his thumb and brings the receiver up to his cheek.

“ _ Hello?” _

“You were right,” Adrien confesses, his voice still unsteady.

_ “You little slut!” _ Chloé cackles across the speaker and if Adrien had half a mind still rattling between his ears, he would have been able to imagine the way Chloé had thrown her head back and laughed,  _ “And I know, because I’m always right. I am Queen Chloé Bourgeois, after all.” _

Adrien nods dumbly, “Yeah.”

_ “So now that I’ve got your attention, what do you say I send over that little gift I mentioned earlier?” _

“Uh…” Adrien gulps, forcing his thoughts to form something marginally cohesive, “Which one?”

Chloé sighs, her exasperation audible, _ “Nevermind. We’ll talk later when you’re not so stupid. Go have a nap or something.” _

Adrien simply grunts in response.

_ “Ugh, boys are utterly ridiculous,” _ Chloé complains and Adrien kind of agrees to be honest,  _ “See you tomorrow for our shopping trip. I’m coming by at 11h and you better not be late.” _

“Kay.”

_ “I’ll text you that later too, by the way. Good thing Dupain-Cheng didn’t propose to you after an orgasm or you’d have probably forgotten.” _

That’s enough to get a laugh out of him, exhaustion be damned, “Yeah.”

_ “Now, I’m kind of in the middle of doing something important because unlike you, I don’t have time to get myself off in the middle of the afternoon,” _ Chloé scoffs at him, though there’s nothing acerbic about her tone, _ “And see if you can get your ball and chain to bone you tonight, okay? I want you to actually be able to focus on engagement ring shopping tomorrow.” _

“Kay.”

_ “Bye dumbass.” _

“Love you.”

_ “God, you’re pathetic.” _

~

Today is the day. The day of reckoning.

The day he  _ finally _ gets to become the man he was born to be.

Adrien weaves his fingers together and inverts them, stretching them out in front of him until they crack. With his BFF at his side, this would be  _ easy _ .

_ “Someone _ looks like he enjoyed himself yesterday,” Chloé hollers from the rolled down limousine window, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

“Yes we are,” Adrien practically skips across the sidewalk, ready for the spree of his life.

First, the two of them hit the  _ Triangle d’Or _ to soak up all of the latest fashions. Adrien purchases an embossed calfskin leather briefcase and matching wallet from Salvatore Ferragamo while Chloé stocks up on all of her favourite beauty products from Guerlain. The shop attendants, who are all quite used to the upper class duo and their expensive tastes, stare questioningly at the replica Chat Noir ring on his finger.

“One of the little girls gave it to me at the hospital yesterday,” Adrien lies simply, watching their faces soften with compassion, “I couldn’t  _ not _ wear it.”

“He's utterly ridiculous,” Chloé whispers conspiratorially, “Once he came to my place wearing a macaroni necklace and tried to call it Italian couture.”

“Hey now,” Adrien laughs, “When my future kid makes you something, I’m expecting you to wear it too.”

“Future kid, hmm?” Julien asks, packing up the newest arrivals from Louis Vuitton for Chloé, “Are you finally going to pop the question to your girlfriend?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Adrien smirks, side-eying his BFF as she collects her things, “Come on, Chlo. We’ve got one more stop to make.”

Ten minutes later, Chloé is introducing him to the famed and much coveted jewelry designer Naveen Dhoni, who’s reputation certainly precedes him. Tiffany’s, Bvlgari, Cartier, you name it, Naveen has had something to do with the amazing designer styles and fashions that adorn the fingers and necks of the wealthiest, most fashionable women in Paris and Adrien is practically frothing at the mouth to tell him about the custom design he wants for Marinette.

“How can I help you, M. Agreste?”

“It’s Adrien,” he responds automatically, “And I’m looking to commision an engagement ring for my girlfriend.”

Naveen’s face splits into a grin, “Congratulations! I’m assuming you want something customized to her preferences.”

“Naturally,” Adrien barely manages to contain his glee, “Chloé says you’re the very best in the business.”

“She’s right, of course,” Naveen points to the diamond encrusted choker around her neck, “No matter the vision, I can improve on it. Now tell me, what does her dream ring look like?”

Adrien explains in earnest about the white gold band and the pink stone that she'd specifically requested. Unlocking a cabinet, Naveen pulls out a glass box and sets it on the counter, unlocking the lid with a key from the lanyard around his neck.

"These are all beautiful, rare, and untreated pink sapphires between three and five karats. Choose one that speaks to you."

Both Chloé's and Adrien's eyes begin to sparkle, "These are  _ beautiful _ ."

"I know," Naveen plucks an oval shaped sapphire with his tweezers and sets it on his palm, "People don't realize that sapphires come in a spectrum of colours. I travel to Bangkok each year to handpick each of my sapphires based on their natural, unique hue."

Agog, both starstruck socialites lean closer, "I want  _ all _ of them."

"But we can only choose one," Adrien's eyes zoom in on a cushion cut sapphire in a deeper shade of pink, "How much is that one?

"Just under €6,000."

"What do you think Chlo?"

His best friend nods approvingly, "If you don't buy it, I will."

"Then it's decided," Adrien looks up at Naveen with a smile so wide he can hardly contain himself, "I want that one."

"A perfect choice," Naveen selects the 4.5 karat gem and sets it down on a blank piece of paper, "I'm envisioning a slim band of white gold," he says, scraping a charcoal pencil across the page, "As for the wedding band, I see a shoreline of white diamonds that will fit perfectly underneath the engagement ring."

Adrien watches the sketch come to life before his eyes, "What about my band?'

"I know a man with sparkling taste when I see one," Naveen pins him with a knowing smile, "I'm seeing a two tone band with a rugged edge, encapsulated by a shoreline of white diamonds to match."

"Two tone?" Adrien asks, watching as Naveen sketches a more masculine version of Marinette's future wedding ring.

"There will be a small ribbon of rose gold to emphasize the diamonds. It will give it a certain elegance in order to compete with the platinum ring on your right hand."

Adrien glances at his Miraculous, "It is kind of... dominant, I guess."

"Exactly, and by the look of it, I can tell that it's an item of jewelry you never part with," Naveen sets his charcoal pencil down and spins the page around for him and Chloé to see, "Give me a moment and I'll write up the quotes. A twenty percent deposit is required for each of the pieces."

"No problem," Adrien replies, gazing lovingly at the engagement ring sketched into the grain. It's beautiful and every bit the dream he'd always had in his wildest fantasies, "Do you think she'll love it?"

"She's an idiot but she's not stupid," Chloé scoffs, oogling the sapphire once again, "She'll love it. Are you still planning to propose on our trip?"

"Yup. It’ll be our very first trip outside of Paris together," Adrien leans forward and cups his cheeks in his palms, ultimately smitten by the design, "Sunset on the first day. Seafood dinner, champagne and those really good Spanish chocolate truffles we got in Ibiza last year."

"I could eat my weight in those," Chloé swoons, leaning against the nearest cabinet, "I'll order some for you, but you owe me."

"I know," Adrien assures her, knowing full well that kicking Chloé off her own yacht for the night is totally rude but ultimately her choice. He'd tried to convince her that they wouldn't be awful about it but apparently Chloé has no intention of “listening to you two having super loud, passionate sex while all I have is my cruise collection of sex toys to keep me company".

Adrien didn't realise there was such thing as a cruise collection of sex toys. He decided not to ask for her to elaborate.

"Here are the quotes," Naveen returns from his back office, a typed up form in hand. Adrien reads it carefully and thanks his lucky stars for the foresight to invest all of his father's money and splurge on luxury items using the generous interest.

"Put it through," Adrien says, sliding his credit card across the counter. Marinette had warned him not to blow his entire paycheque on her ring but #yolo, "When will the engagement ring be ready?" 

"Three weeks thereabouts," Naveen replies, putting the order through in his tablet, "I'll call you when it's ready."

"Awesome," Adrien grins, elation pumping through his veins, "What do you think Chloé? Was this shopping trip a success?"

"Bitch, please," she hooks her arms through his elbow and steers him out the door with a wave, "Anything we do together is a success. We’re basically perfect."

Adrien laughs, "You're so extra."

"Only when I'm with you," she scoffs, snapping her fingers at the limo driver.

"Liar," Adrien waits at the threshold of the door and holds her hand as she slides into the leather interior of the luxury vehicle, "You're even worse when I'm not around to be a good example."

"No,  _ I'm _ the good example," she yanks him inside by the collar and Adrien flops onto her lap on purpose, "You're just a whiny little baby I put up with."

Adrien rolls into his back, effectively squishing his best friend down against her seat, "I'm not a whiny little baby,  _ you _ 're a whiny little baby."

"See? Who's the one whining right now?" Chloé tries to shove him off, "Oh my god, why are you so heavy?"

"Because I'm fat," Adrien laments, draping an arm across his eyes, "Marinette keeps telling me I'm not but I am."

Chloé is quiet for a moment, "You look better than you used to, you know. A little baby fat looks good on you."

Shifting his forearm, Adrien pouts, "I'm not a baby."

"You're certainly acting like one," Chloé pats his head fondly before reaching into her little Gucci bag, "Hang on, my phone is ringing."

Her manicured fingernails hit the call button with a sharp clack, "Concierge, you  _ know _ better than to call me while I'm shopping unless it's an emergency……..What?! Tell that bitch we're booked and she can sleep with the other fake Instaskanks at the Shangri-La……..I don't care if she's insisting, she is  _ not _ setting foot in my father's hotel and that's  _ final." _

Adrien doesn't have to be a genius to figure out who she's talking about, "Lila?"

Chloé practically growls in confirmation, "I will literally take your paycheque and make you watch as I throw it in a blender if you let that two-faced, cheap hag book the presidential suite, do you understand?"

She hangs up before the employee on the other line can respond and drops her phone back in her bag, utterly disgusted, "I can't believe that bitch! If I see her anywhere near me, I’m gonna go off on her and no one’s going to be able to hold me back.”

Adrien squirms uncomfortably, still laying in her lap, “It’s because she’s going to do an interview on TVi about her life on Thursday.”

“So that’s why the little  _ salope _ is trying to stay at Le Grand Paris. Typical,” Chloé shoves her nose into the air, “She thinks that just because she’s rich, she can stay at the greatest hotel in Paris? This is  _ my _ city, not hers.”

“Oof.”

“What’s the matter?” Chloé immediately interrogates him, “You don’t just ‘oof’ me after the perfect shopping date.”

“She’s going to rip Ladybug apart on live TV,” Adrien explains himself, worry churning in his gut, “I just know it. There’s not many people out there with the ability to turn people against Ladybug but I know she could. There’s something so much more...I don’t know, persuasive I guess, about her nowadays. She was pretty good at convincing people back in our school days but now she’s got over one hundred million followers believing everything she says…”

Chloé frowns, “You’re afraid she’s going to cause shit between the two of you.”

“Chlo, I  _ know _ for a fact that this isn’t going to go over well. First of all, Lila is crazy persuasive. She can get away with anything and we’re powerless to stop it, especially if she makes up some sort of stupid lie about Ladybug. And she will. She will totally say something terrible about her during this interview and I’m going to have to hold Marinette back so she doesn’t get charged with premeditated murder.”

“That bitch would look better without her ugly head attached to her shoulders, just saying.”

Adrien just shakes his head, “At least there’s no Le Papillon around to akumatize her...”

Adrien trails off, his brows folding together in frustration. The missing Butterfly and Peacock Miraculouses had been weighing heavily on his mind since Nooroo’s meltdown some three years ago; seeing that kind of raw power turn an entire city against you....Adrien knows that in the wrong hands, Nooroo’s grudge with Ladybug and Chat Noir could very well destroy everything they’ve ever known.

“You still have all of the other Miraculous, right?”

“They’ve been hidden in our apartment ever since Master Fu retired,” Adrien tugs on his bangs and braces his feet on the side of the limousine as it makes a tight turn, “Marinette moves it around at least twice a month. Sometimes I don’t even know where she’s put them.”

“That’s good, at least.”

Chloé, for all of her stuck-up behaviours and downright acidic attitudes, knows how to be serious when it’s necessary, “You and I are experts at damage control. If it comes down to it, we’ll figure something out to get you two back into the limelight in a flattering way. I did it with you and your brand, I can do it with Ladybug’s too.”

The way she says it, both proud and furious, puts Adrien at ease, “Thanks, fam.”

“Only for you”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

~

Marinette is already at home when Adrien lumbers through the door carrying his Salvatore Ferragamo packages in one hand and a purchase from Dior in the other. It doesn’t bode well for him simply due to the fact that he was planning on hiding the sleeveless red dress he’d picked up as a pre-engagement gift inside his bedroom dresser, which would now be a lot harder to do since she happens to be standing in front of the staircase fiddling with the canvases she wants to hang on their living/dining room walls.

“Hey fiancé,” Adrien tries to hide the bag behind his back and shimmies into the kitchen, “How was work?”

“Good,” Marinette replies, her back still turned to him, “I left a few hours early because I submitted the last of the designs to my supervisor.”

“That’s great,” Adrien shoves the bag into their stockpot and closes the lid as quietly as he can, “I’ve got chicken defrosting in the fridge if you want to help me make something.”

“I’d love to,” Marinette says, “It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to cook together.”

Victorious, Adrien tiptoes back out into the open concept space, “I’ll be right back, I just gotta get changed and put this in my closet.”

“I take it you bought that briefcase you’ve been admiring?”

“Yup,” Adrien pads up the wrought iron spiral staircase, “It was even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“But not as beautiful as you,” she turns to look at him finally, winking over her shoulder, “Oh, and don’t forget your apron. I left it out on the chaise for you.”

Adrien’s eyebrows pique, “You mean... _ the _ apron?”

Marinette’s grin only widens, “Yup. I told you I was going to take care of you and I meant it.”

Racing up the staircase, Adrien pumps his fists into the air and throws off all his clothes in every which direction because  _ finally _ ! Marinette must be starting to feel the affects of the heat if she’s propositioning him for sex before dinner in the ‘Naked Chef’ apron he’d bought as a joke. Tying it around his bare waist, Adrien leaps out of their bedroom and takes the steps two at a time, landing on the lower landing with a flourish, “Madame, your personal chef is at your service—”

“—ummm...Adrien?”

Straightening from his bow, Adrien spots his fiancé staring out of the windows, “Yeah?”

“Were they calling for snow today?”

“I don’t think so.”

Marinette remains silent for the length of time it takes Adrien to join her at her side, “Is that what I think it is?”

“A snow tornado?” Adrien blinks several times, “...um.”

“And snow just doesn't...I don’t know, spontaneously cause tornadoes, does it?”

“I don’t think so,” Adrien fishes Marinette’s phone out of the back pocket of her trousers and types in her code, “Uh, Bug? We might have a problem.”

She glances over and stares agape at the message on the screen.

**AKUMA ATTACK!** **  
** **TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY!** **  
** **LADYBUG AND CHAT NOIR WILL BE AT THE SCENE SOON!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN...
> 
> You didn't actually think I would write a fun, happy-go-lucky chapter and not completely douse you with a cold bucket of water at the end, did you? This is me we're talking about here. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	7. Secretly Banksy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I kind of promised they wouldn't fight anymore but I wanted to write some make-up sex and, let's be honest, we all love some good ol fashioned make-up sex. Also, there's restraints involved. This story is called 'Bound' after all.

After twenty minutes of sleuthing around Paris, both Chat Noir and Ladybug still have no idea where the hell this random snowstorm is coming from. They’ve searched high and low for an akuma or any signs of maliciousness but nothing is turning up and they’re growing more and more frustrated with the absence of any pertinent clues. Between the snow flying in their eyes and the howling wind gusting through their hair, their matching looks of contempt perfectly communicate how irritated they’ve become with the lack of progress on the matter.

Crossing the avenues between the 6ème and 7ème arrondissements, Chat Noir banks right and Ladybug follows him towards the Eiffel Tower. It’s impossible to see more than a few metres ahead of them but they’ve scampered across rooftops long enough to know each path by heart, the roofs and eaves as familiar to them as the sidewalks below. 

Ladybug is understandably furious by the time they reach  _ le Champ de Mars _ and holds her hands up to her eyes to keep the snow from outright blinding her. She’s half tempted to beg her Lucky Charm for a set of ski goggles when the air suddenly staggers to an eerie halt all around them. 

The snow falls to the ground like parchment pebbles. The air grows uncomfortably cold.

“Ladybug?”

She turns to face him, “Yeah?”

“Look.”

She follows the haunted look on her partner’s face to the second floor of the Eiffel Tower, spotting a figure standing tall on the wrought iron lattice. It’s probably female, judging by the long brown hair cascading behind its shoulders, but that’s about all Ladybug can ascertain from this distance. 

Then the figure moves, shifting its weight from side to side like a hungry tiger; even from afar, Ladybug can see the figure begin to twirl a frighteningly familiar cane between its fingers.

“No…” Ladybug’s voice catches in her throat, her stomach heaving against her lungs. There’s no way this could happen. There’s absolutely no way—

Chat takes her hand in his. He squeezes. 

She can’t squeeze back.

The tension in the air seems to teeter on the edge of a knife, sharp and deadly and centimetres from robbing her blind. Everything she’s worked for and everyone she’s ever loved is at stake and Ladybug can’t tear her eyes away from the mysterious figure standing there like a false messiah, staring at it as it is them. Her knees begin to quiver, her breaths rapid and shallow, and her hair stands on end. 

“WHO ARE YOU?!” Chat bellows from beside her, his deep voice carrying through the dead air.

The figure’s head tips to the side, its disdain palpable even from here. Ladybug is certain it will respond but as the moments drag into minutes…

The figure begins to laugh.

It’s an awful sound, grating and screeching and horribly familiar. It reminds her of something straight out of her past except she can't seem to put a finger on it...

And then just like that, it’s gone.

Instinctively, Chat is the first to react, darting forwards, “Who the  _ fuck _ was that?!”

Stunned speechless, Ladybug simply stares at the spot where the figure was last seen, heedless to the way the snow has completely dissolved around them.

It has to be an illusion.

It  _ has _ to be.

Because if Le Papillon is truly back in Paris…

They were all in serious danger.

~

Vaulting through their apartment window, Chat is the first to detransform, “There is  _ no _ way. There is absolutely  _ no _ way.”

Ladybug latches the window closed behind them and collapses into the nearest chair, “This is what I was afraid of.”

“But how?” Adrien tears at his bangs, “And why? Why now? Why attack Paris now?!”

“I…” Ladybug blanches, “Plagg, would Nooroo be able to reveal our civilian names?”

“Not a chance,” Plagg responds, his expression about as serious as she’s ever seen it, “But that doesn’t mean he can’t cheat the system.”

“Cheat the system?!” Ladybug’s voice verges on hysterics, “What do you mean, cheat the system?!”

“Just because he can’t say your names, doesn’t mean he can’t find other ways to make sure you’re the primary target.”

“Wait wait wait,” Adrien interjects desperately, grasping at straws, “What if that wasn’t Le Papillon at all? It wasn’t like that was a real akuma attack or anything.”

Plagg turns, his grimace making her heart sink, “Yeah, no. That was Nooroo.”

“But how can you be sure? You couldn’t sense him last time and he was living in my house!”

“I’ve had a few years to think about it,” Plagg levels with him, “I’m sure.”

“Shit,” Adrien begins to pace, “Shit shit shit shit—what do we do?!”

“We don’t do anything,” Ladybug stares blankly at the hardwood floors, her blood pressure mounting with every fluttering beat of her heart, “We’re at his—or her mercy. Again. We fight until we stop it. And then we’ll have a few years of peace and until it starts all over again.”

“Marinette,” Adrien implores, flopping down on the chair across from her, “We’ll...we’re going to get through this.”

“But at what cost?!” she cries, wrapping her arms around her middle, “How are we supposed to get married and start a family if Le Papillon is trying to ruin our lives again?! How are we supposed to keep Paris safe?!”

“By doing it together,” he tries to assure her, clasping her hands in his, “You and me against the world, right?”

Her eyes are watering, her emotions overwhelming her, “We have to cancel our vacation to Saint Tropez. And the engagement. We can’t get married anymore.”

“What?! No, Marinette,” he squeezes her hands, his panic rising, “We can! We’ll defeat Le Papillon again, just like last time. We can do this.”

“No,” Ladybug stands and pushes him away as he tries to follow, “It’s done. Cancel everything.”

“Wait!”

“I’m going to bed. I need to—I can’t be around anyone right now.”

“But—”

Running up the stairs three stairs at a time, Ladybug disappears and slams the bedroom door shut behind her, leaving a windswept, heartbroken and still mostly naked Adrien in her wake.

~

_ “AHH!” _

Gasping, Marinette wrenches herself free from her bedsheets and gasps for breath, sitting up straight in her bed at three in the morning. She’s sweating profusely, her chest still heaving from her nightmare, and finds Adrien staring at her from the threshold of their ensuite with a mug in his hands.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, his voice as soft as she’s ever heard it.

“No,” she shakes her head. Taking a tissue from her bedside table, she wipes the sweat from her upper lip and tries to calm her breathing, “Can you grab me my prescription? It’s in the cabinet.”

He nods wordlessly and appears a minute later, offering her his tea. Thanking him, she slips one of her anxiety pills between her lips and chases it with his drink, wincing at the plasticky taste of the capsule. 

“You’ve been having nightmares all night,” Adrien murmurs, staring blankly passed her shoulder at the headboard beyond, “I wasn’t sure if I should wake you or not.”

“It’s okay,” she responds automatically, lifting her shirt up and down to fan her abdomen and lower back, “I don’t have to work until tomorrow afternoon at least.”

“That’s nice,” Adrien murmurs, closing his eyes, “Can you...can you stop that for a second?"

“Hmm?”

“That,” he points at her shirt, “You’re...you smell really good.”

"Oh."

“Yep,” he says, popping his lips purposefully, “Look, I’m going to go grab a shower. You should try and get back to sleep.”

“Wait,” Marinette grabs his wrist, effectively yanking him back onto the mattress, “We...um...”

"What?"

Marinette has always liked the steady calm of the early morning, having spent many of them fighting akumas and prowling the streets for gangs and the like. She tries to channel that energy now, if only to lessen the guilt she feels every time he avoids her gaze, "I kind of freaked out on you earlier."

Adrien doesn't respond. He doesn't have to.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What more is there to say?" Adrien runs his fingers against the plaid pattern on his pyjama bottoms, methodically tracing the green and navy pattern, "You want to cancel our vacation and call off the engagement."

Marinette winces, "I…"

"Look, it's your decision. I'll handle it either way."

"Adrien—"

"It's fine,” Adrien mutters, gently extricating himself from her grasp.

Still groggy, Marinette searches for the right words to say, "Look, just give me a minute to explain myself."

Adrien pauses, his back to her, and she takes that as an invitation to continue, "I was catastrophizing earlier and I kind of spiralled out of control."

Silence.

"And I'm still really scared of what’s about to happen but...I know how important this is to you."

"It is."

"So we can still get engaged."

Adrien's shoulders tighten, "But what about the next time?"

"What do you mean, the next time?"

Adrien turns his head, his eyes still pointedly looking elsewhere, "I mean, the next time Le Papillon appears? Won’t you just freak out again?” he sighs, "Look, I just want to get a shower and go back to bed."

“No,” Marinette says, her tone of voice so resolute it stops him in his tracks, “We need to talk about this. We need to talk about a lot of stuff.”

“It’s late—”

“And you and I aren’t going to get any sleep if we keep doing this,” she gestures between the two of them, not that he’s looking at her, “You told me not that long ago that I’m not good at listening to you and you’re right. Sometimes I get so caught up in my own life and my own ambition that I forget to think about the important people in my life the way they need me to. I steamrolled right over top of you without thinking about your feelings because I was overwhelmed by my own feelings. And I’m sorry. Honestly, I am.”

“I’m also sorry about freaking out every time we talk about having kids or getting married,” she continues, “Change is...it’s really hard for me to wrap my head around and now that Le Papillon is back…” Marinette draws her knees to her chest and rests her forehead on her kneecaps, “I haven’t been a good partner lately and I know it.”

Still blinded by her legs and her failing pride, Marinette can only listen and feel as Adrien collapses back onto the bed beside her, “I think I’m being unfair as well. I’ve been...kind of lying to you.”

Marinette’s eyes burst open, “About what?”

“About how much the heat is affecting me. And how it’s affecting how I’ve been treating you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been...I don’t know, just not myself lately. And I guess you haven’t really been either but...it’s like, every little thing that’s going wrong, I’ve been taking it as a personal slight against me,” Adrien takes a deep breath and releases it, “I’ve just become really sensitive to everything all of the sudden and I don’t know why.”

“Have you talked to Docteur Renée about it?”

“She thinks it’s the hormones talking but I’m not so sure. Then again, this is the first time we’ve been…” Adrien trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing dangerously in his throat, “...so out of sync.”

Marinette tips her head to the side, “How long has it been bothering you?”

“Just under a month now.”

“A month?!” Marinette reels, her eyes bulging wide, “But it’s only the end of February!”

“I know…” he groans, pulling his hands away from his fiancée to bury his face in his palms, “And it  _ sucks.” _

“Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

“I kind of did?”

“Yeah, two weeks ago when we moved into our new apartment,” Marinette balls her hands into fists, “But I asked you point blank on the phone back at the beginning of February and you said no.”

“That’s because you weren’t feeling it and I didn’t want you to feel bad,” Adrien counters, tugging at his bangs, “We’ve always hit it at the same time even when we were teenagers and now we’re not anymore and I was scared you didn’t find me attractive!”

“What?!” Marinette feels the blood drain from her face, “No! No no no, Adrien. I have no idea why this is happening like this but it’s not that! Adrien, I love you!”

“But do you love all this?” he gestures to himself and Marinette’s heart shatters, “I’m not exactly model material anymore.”

“Adrien…” she whispers, her heart breaking, “You are everything to me.”

He refuses to look at her, “I know, but…”

“I took out my IUD,” she blurts, desperate to get his attention again, “I want to start a family with you after we’re married.”

Adrien’s neck whips around so hard it audibly cracks,  _ “What?!” _

“I know! And I should have told you when I did it but then I got distracted by everything going on and...” Marinette smacks herself on the forehead, “I don’t know what’s going to happen or what’s going to happen to us, but we need to stick together. We have to...we have to help each other.”

“Marinette…” he says, quiet and questioning. He reaches up to touch her face, the soft pads of his fingers landing on her cheek and chin, “We really need to work on this communicating thing.”

She exhales through her nose and leans into his touch, “Understatement of the year.”

“How have we been together for this long and we still don’t know what we’re doing?” Adrien’s voice ends in a whisper, as if he’s lost the energy to finish his thought.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder, “I think we just have to keep learning. I don’t think we’ll ever stop.”

“No…” he hums, burying his face in her hair, “Everything is changing, isn’t it.”

It’s a statement that Marinette has no interest in contesting, “Yes.”

“And we still love each other, right?”

“I will always love you,” she says, wrapping her arms around his middle, “No matter what life throws at us.”

“I love you too,” he returns the gesture, hugging her close, “I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you about this heat thing earlier. Docteur Renée and I have been talking about my self esteem issues lately, but I didn’t realise how stupid I was being until right now.”

Marinette pulls away and presses her hands to his chest as if to steady them both, “It’s fine, Chaton. Just...don’t keep this kind of stuff from me anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” Adrien nods, pulling at a seam in their bedsheets, “Maybe we can plan a time once a week where we can talk about these things together, judgement free.”

“I love that idea,” she agrees, the corners of her lips quirking upwards, “Sunday mornings at breakfast?”

“Perfect.”

“Good,” Marinette stretches, her back popping with every little twist and turn, “Now that that’s settled, can you help me with something?”

“Sure,” Adrien blinks, the shine in his eyes returning at the very notion of being useful, “What do you need?”

“You,” she breathes him in, the magical tingle at the base of her spine from earlier that afternoon suddenly flaring to life once again.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Marinette stretches her legs out in front of her, shivering as the telltale signs of spring begin to prickle through her nerve endings all the way to her toes, “I think I need a hug.”

“That I can do,” Adrien lifts the sheets and scooches in beside her, wrapping his arms around her middle, “I’m always down to snuggle.”

“I know,” Marinette shifts her body around so that she’s facing him and slips one of her legs between his. Her body reacts immediately and she can’t deny it any longer; she may be a little late to the party, but they were both about to get back on their yearly roller coaster ride, “Adrien?”

Glancing up at him, Marinette notices that his eyes have already shuttered in search of sleep, “Hmm?”

“I know we just had a really serious talk and you’re probably exhausted but...I think it’s starting.”

“Mmm.”

She prods him in the chest as his breathing begins to even, “The heat, Adrien.”

There’s a long pause as Marinette waits for her words to worm into his subconscious. One breath, two breaths and then—

“Wait, what?”

Her cheeks flush as a rush of endorphins skitter up her spinal cord and surges down her arms like molten chocolate, thick and melt-in-your-mouth, “It just started.”

“It did?”

“Mmhmm.”

_ “Ohhhhh,” _ his expression broadens significantly, “Like, right now?”

Marinette hums, slipping her hand up underneath his shirt if only to watch his lips form a perfect O, “And I could use a little help falling asleep.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien says, his hesitancy a direct contrast to the way his fingers twitch against her, desperate to touch and satiate the burning need to fuck her into their mattress six ways from Sunday, “Are you just doing this to—”

“No really, I want it,” Marinette grabs him by the wrist and presses his palm to her chest, “I want the intimacy. I want you to just...let it all out and make love to me.”

Marinette reaches across the space between them and clutches fistfuls of Adrien’s shirt, dragging him flush against her. She pours everything she feels — anguish, guilt, passion, frustration, arousal — into their embrace and he’s painfully still for a moment, gauging the situation. It only takes a second though; his emotions notwithstanding, he kisses her with naked fervour, his hands snaking around her body until they’re pressed skin to skin.

He pulls back after a moment to breath, his mouth flushed pink and slick from their shared delights. He tastes like hibiscus green tea and smells like lapsang souchong, like the earth beneath them, like the cologne she bought him at Christmastime. It’s divinely intoxicating and she awakens all at once with the guilt of knowing he’s been tasting and touching her skin like this for an entire month now, facing this alone.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been...available, I guess, as much as you’ve needed me,” she whispers against his lips, emotion steadying her tongue.

“It’s okay,” Adrien evades her, peppering her neck with kisses, “I’ve been managing on my own.”

“Have you though? You usually have trouble dealing with…” she gestures vaguely between the two of them, “...all this by yourself.”

In years previous, Adrien had been embarrassingly vocal about the fact that handling his magicly triggered arousal on his own was not the most satisfactory means of making his brain stop begging him to hump anything with a pulse, “I’m trying different...things.”

The conversation stalls for a moment. Even heat addled, Marinette is already getting ideas.

“...what sort of things?”

Adrien gulps. If he lies, Marinette will see right through him but if he tells the truth, Marinette will kill him for telling Chloé every raunchy detail about their sex life because he sorely lacks a filter when his hormones are screaming at him, “Just...things.”

Marinette hums, “Is this about what you said a while ago? About changing things up?”

“Yes,” Adrien blurts before he can stop himself, “I mean, yes and...actually yes.”

“I see,” Marinette smirks as her flustered fiancé scrambles to make heads or tails of himself, “Is that why I found a vibrator behind your shampoo?”

“What?!” Adrien physically jerks in her grasp, sputtering a whole series of completely unintelligible garbled sounds and even in the dim light of their bedroom, Marinette can’t help but snicker at the poignant shade of plum he’s turning, “I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I found it in the shower this morning,” Marinette struggles to keep a straight face as he fights for his composure, “It was kind of hard to miss, being hot pink and all.”

Adrien is suitably mortified, “It’s not...I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Adrien,” Marinette takes pity on him, grasping his hands, “I’m just sorry you had to resort to sex toys instead of just asking me for sex.”

“But—”

“No buts,” she says, weaving their fingers together, “This will be our fifth heat together and nothing has changed. We have to help each other out.”

She shifts her hips just enough to make her presence known against his length, inspiring a growl from the back of his throat. He kisses her again, just hard enough to distract, and drags the fabric of her pyjama shirt up and over her back and shoulders, “I know.”

Like a storm exposed by a lightning strike, the distance between them is erased, sucked into the void of their raw and ragged emotions. She bites at the corner of his jaw and  _ god _ , he loves it when she gets rough with him; they both love a little fire, a little sharpness, a little discomfort if it means they’ll be able to mend the pieces of themselves back together.

Adrien wraps his arms around her body and pulls her down flush against his torso, spreading her legs apart with his knee so he can slip into the space between her thighs. She snakes a hand between them and shoves his pyjama pants down one hip, leaving Adrien to grind his bulge against her centre as he attempts to shift his hips up just enough to get the other side down. He hisses and throws his head back as his cock springs free, his chest heaving as he finally lets the drag of his hormones blind him of logic, leaving him a victim to instinct alone.

Her mouth is anything but passive as she wriggles her own pyjama pants down her legs as fast as she can manage without kneeing him in the crotch. He’s hard and she’s desperate, her own heat addled senses sparking like firecrackers low in her belly. He groans something unintelligible and his voice is deep and hoarse and resonates just right, steadying her turmoil as she hauls her panties to the side and takes him in her grasp.

“I’m still sorry,” she whispers, her thoughts still a mess as she pumps him once, twice in her palm. Adrien whines, a perfectly erratic tremble, and soaks in her heady expression as his grip on her hips grows even tighter.

“So am I,” he buries his nose into the crook of her neck and breathes her in, “But we’ll figure it out.”

Marinette warbles as he tugs on her earlobe with his teeth, “We’ll...oh  _ god, _ that feels good."

“Yeah?” he snorts, rolling them over, “There’s more where that came from.”

“Then what’s the hold up, lover boy?” Marinette smirks, her lower lips pressing up against the base of his cock with each and every breath, “Cat got your tongue?”

Adrien shudders, unable to help it, “Your sex puns are  _ terrible _ .”

Laughing, she smacks him on the shoulder as he reaches around and digs his fingertips into her ass, urging her to rise up and take him inside of her, “Then stop talking and start— _ ooh yes.” _

Aligning their hips, Adrien foregoes caution for the element of surprise and shudders, his eyes drawn to her wrecked expression as she sinks down onto his cock and gasps. The sensation of her body stretching to accommodate his girth sets his blood on fire and he’s about to make a comment about putting her foot in her mouth when she shifts, elongating one of her legs up towards his shoulder so she’s more or less spread herself into a perfect split.

_ “Oh god,” _ he murmurs, sitting up a little straighter at the challenge in her eyes. The strange angle of the position she’s folded herself into is certainly impressive, but Adrien can’t help but feel a little hungrier for more. 

She runs her palms in long strokes across his chest as she gets used to the feeling, her fingers curling around the muscles of his shoulders and biceps, shoulders and biceps that are suddenly lifting her right off his cock and into the air above him. Her legs splay wide as he braces her around the waist and flips them both over again, thumping her down onto the mattress beneath him. 

“If you wanted to play, you should have just asked,” he growls, kicking off the pyjama pants that have tangled near his ankles. He reaches into his bedside table and fishes for their cuffs from beneath a copy of Vogue, “Hands.”

She aquieces wordlessly, presenting her wrists to him with a restless warble. He snaps them on quickly, not entirely unversed when it comes to their mutually beneficial fixation with being tied up, and shoves her hands above her head with a searing kiss that has her questioning how long she can handle being at his mercy. He’s always careful with her until he’s not and it drives her up the wall with frustration and pleasure each and every time they break out their little collection of toys.

She’s fully expecting him to get right to it and fuck her senseless when he pulls away and starts digging again, this time in her second drawer. She’s confused for all of three seconds until he pulls out the ankle straps he’s incredibly fond of, dangling them by his finger, “You think you’re flexible, hm?”

There’s danger in that wolfish smile of his and Marinette feels herself grow wetter at the very thought of what he has up his sleeve. Tugging her panties down her legs, he snags her left ankle and tightens the velcro strap as he presses a line of kisses up her calf, drawing his tongue up the back of her knee. She doesn’t know why that does it for her but  _ god _ , she can’t help the needy gasp that escapes her lips, especially as he treats her other leg with the same meticulous torture that has her dripping.

He pushes her ankles back until she’s perfectly folded in two and sits back down on his haunches to inspect his handwork. She’s completely exposed to him and sopping wet, the evidence of her arousal dripping down the cleft of her ass. Adrien commits the image to memory before putting the last finishing touches on his design by unclipping the snap hook on her right wrist and tangling it with the ankle strap before latching the snap hook again.

Doubled over and trapped with her hands and ankles above her head, Marinette can honestly say that this is a new one for the two of them. She tests her bonds a little and Adrien adjusts them, innately able to read her body language until she’s as comfortable as she can be completely folded in half. Mightily impressed with himself, he draws his fingers down the backs of her thighs, the sensation of his blunt nails scraping across her skin ramping up her anticipation until she’s practically begging for him to fuck her already.

And really, who is he to deny her?

He drives two fingers up inside of her and delights in the litany of nonsense that pours from her lips as he thrusts and twists, paying particular attention to the way her voice pitches each and every time he nudges the right spot with his fingertips. He teases her for less than a minute like this but he can already tell that she’s getting close, the slickness on his fingers and the short, sharp pants for mercy a telltale sign. He can’t help but get a little lost in her eyes as she begins to shower him in babbled praise, something she always does to get him to stop teasing her and just fuck her already. 

Admittedly, it works every time.

He pulls his fingers free and contemplates them for a moment before flattening his tongue against her centre and licking a strip right up to her clit, circling it once, twice, three times before finally ending her torment. Completely exposed to him and utterly at his mercy, he plunges his cock inside her and fucks her relentlessly, straining for release.

Braced on his palms, Adren bends down to kiss her and revels in the way she arches up to meet him halfway, wanton and gorgeous and perfectly on display. Her face is flushed and he imagines he must look the same way, lips swollen and hair plastered to their foreheads as he presses harder, faster, slick and near desperate. He locks eyes with her and that’s all it takes to drive him over the edge, his mouth falling open in a perfect little O of ecstasy as he grinds his hips against hers and falls over the edge.

She’s still squirming beneath him, still chasing her high, and Adrien finds that his erection hasn’t quite dwindled as it usually would. There are certain perks to their Miraculous induced heats that he’s always appreciated and he starts thrusting again, tentatively at first until he can calm his nerves down enough to find a rhythm he can contend with. He’s overly sensitive but her pleasure always takes precedence and it’s so much sweeter than it was before, the scent of their combined arousal sharp and salty in the air between them.

“Adrien,” she gasps and it’s the first real word she’s managed to scrape together in a while. He captures her lips with his and swallows her cries as she comes around him, her walls fluttering as her thighs clench and unclench, her restraints creaking with the supernatural strain of her strength against fabrics made for mere mortals. They’re none of those things, not anymore, although they don’t yet realise it entirely.

He’s still hard but he pulls out anyway, her climax singeing his nerves and setting his skin on fire. She’s still soaring up into the stratosphere and Adrien takes himself in his hand instead, pumping himself to an embarrassingly quick completion as he watches her shudder and groan from the aftershocks. He comes all over her splayed thighs and drenched lips, hissing from the exquisite overstimulation as he collapses back on his ass and heaves.

He frees her eventually, although she’s making no move to escape. It’s unspoken between them, the love she has for giving herself over to him fully and completely. It’s the same vulnerability that drives his own need to be dominated by her hand and he keeps that in mind as he gently massages her ankles before turning his attention to her wrists, pulling her against his body in an embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asks, their sticky skin pressed together in a way that’s just beginning to edge on uncomfortable.

“I think we need a shower,” she mutters, twisting her back a little to get away from the gummy mix of liquids between them, “I forgot how gross we get during our heat.”

Adrien mirrors the sentiment, “I can’t believe I came twice in five minutes.”

“Impressive,” she laughs through her nose and scratches her side only to bring her come coated hand up to her face, “You practically painted me.”

“Maybe I’m secretly Banksy.”

Marinette begins to laugh in earnest, her amusement endearingly contagious. Adrien’s grasp grows tighter out of some possessive urge he can’t quite explain, but he wants to keep her here forever, his and his alone. 

He’ll realise why later, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that certainly ended on an interesting note, didn't it?
> 
> Also, wassup Lila! Just wait until you read her interview in the next chapter!
> 
> Did you like all the toys I'm adding to the fray? Are there any you would enjoy seeing as I continue to pepper this series with smut scenes every which way? We've got a threesome coming (in act 3) but otherwise, what other kinky shit do you think would be fun to explore?
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	8. Google is Always Listening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a hot minute since I updates this but....Covid-19 meant working from home and just caused a lot of chaos in my life. It's been easier to write shorter things to relax my mind rather than this epic trilogy. I have finished this chapter though and I hope you enjoy it! The Lila salt is _strong_ with this one.

Exhausted from work and making dinner that evening, Adrien doesn’t even bother trying to convince the love of his life to watch what will probably be the most haranguing fifteen minute interview of their lives, “Hey Bug? I’ve got Lila’s interview streaming if you want to watch it.”

“Absolutely not,” Marinette storms out of the kitchen and bypases him completely for the stairs, “I’ll be in the bedroom destroying everything in Mecha Strike IV if you need me.”

“Sounds good,” Adrien adjusts the screen of his iPad and swallows against the nervous butterflies in his stomach. He really hopes that Lila will take the high road with this interview but he seriously doubts it, especially when all of Paris is watching to see what she says.

_ “Next is a young woman who has made saving the world her business, one Instagram follower at a time. From Haiti to Uganda, there’s no charity organisation she hasn’t devoted her time to, much to her huge fanbase’s adoration and delight. If you haven’t guessed her name by now, you clearly don’t have a smartphone.” _

The camera zooms out on Alec Cataldi, revealing a familiar face from collège and lycée smiling beside him,  _ “Social media outlets all around the world know her best as  _ _ @lilalove _ _ but tonight, we have her at the studio in person. Welcome Lila Rossi!” _

Adrien shifts uncomfortably as a montage of Lila’s Instagram posts begin to play across their screen. The reel shows Lila posing with underprivileged children living in poverty, flashing peace signs with them as their bellies swell from malnutrition. She’s receiving the key to a city in some unnamed African country, clinking glasses of champagne with what some would consider the most ruthless dictators in the world. As she’s riding an elephant and scratching the chins of monkeys in Thailand, Alec’s begins speaking in a voiceover.

_ “When Lila Rossi left Paris after the death of her mother, she wanted to do something grand to honour her memory. Armed with nothing but a smartphone and a handful of her belongings, Lila walked into Charles du Gaulle and began travelling the world, documenting her adventures through social media and never looking back.” _

The reel splits into multiple frames showing some of Lila’s most liked photos from Instagram,  _ “The photoshoot taken while travelling to Spain two and a half years ago would become one of her very first forays into the exclusive world of Instagram influencers, where the best in the business use specially curated posts on social media to affect purchases and lead followers to specific brands and causes.” _

The image zooms in on one of Lila’s latest posts, if the date at the bottom is anything to go by.

_ “A one time teenager from a broken home, this young entrepreneur has rocketed to stardom to become one of the biggest powerhouses in the industry. Welcome to TVi, Lila Rossi!” _

The camera pans to both of them once more, Lila’s smiling persona taking up all of the space around them, _ “Thank you so much for having me here!” _

_ “Of course,” _ Alec smiles back,  _ “With over fifty million followers, you have an enormous outreach. How did it all get started?” _

_ “Well, after my mother tragically commited suicide, I knew I needed to do something in her honour. I thought of a few things I could do, like donating the money from the sales of all of our belongings from our apartment to suicide organisations but I knew that wouldn’t be enough and I was just so heartbroken,”  _ Lila presses a hand to her chest, her eyes welling up with tears, _ “I needed to find myself before I made any big decisions. So I decided to travel.” _

_ “A good choice, all things considered,” _ Alec nods along, checking his notes briefly, _ “Although, it says here that your late mother’s death was never actually ruled a suicide. In fact, the police have it labeled as suspicious.” _

Lila glances away, her chin dipping downwards, _ “It was such a difficult chapter in my life. I’d rather not discuss it.” _

_ “Of course,” _ Alec gracefully lets the topic go,  _ “So where did you travel to first?” _

_ “The first ticket I purchased was to Spain and to keep myself from feeling lonely, I started posting pictures of myself at the airport and on the plane. I didn’t have many friends, especially after my mother’s suicide...people treated me like a disgrace after I was accused of being a suspect, which was obviously so untrue,” _ Lila wipes at her eyes and looks back over at Alec,  _ “But then I added some tags to my pictures like  _ _ #travel _ _ and  _ _ #airfrance _ _ and a few people actually liked my photos. I wasn’t really focused on numbers at the beginning, you know. I just wanted to share photos of my travels until it started to grow and from there, famous people and companies started to reach out to me.” _

_ “And what does a typical day in the life of Lila Rossi look like?" _

_ "Well, every morning I start my day by responding to comments and DM's left by my LilaHearts on Instagram. They're my number one priority," _ Lila turns to the camera and blows it a kiss,  _ "I'd be lost without all of my amazing fans, you know. But after spending at least an hour catching up with all my stans, I get crazy busy answering emails and handling calls and meetings with companies and charities. I have to be so choosy with the people I work with because I get so many offers all the time. It's literally in the thousands!" _

_ “And are you at all worried that you put too much of your life on Instagram?" _

_ “I’m not worried at all,” _ Lila responds, flicking her wrist in jest,  _ “I’m really in touch with my enormous fan base and I know what they want to see from me. They want to see my life and how I live it, whether it’s spending my time volunteering for charities or living the life of luxury that my influencer status affords.” _

_ “A lot of your success can be attributed to your relationship with your fans, who like to call themselves after your Instagram handle, the LilaHearts. How do you give back to the people who have supported your journey?” _

_ "Oh, I do so much for my fans," _ Lila assures Alec,  _ "I'm always reading my comments to see who my biggest fans are. Those are the ones that I reward, whether it's with trips away with me or free swag. They're not allowed to post anything online about it though, so my other fans don't get jealous. But I definitely take care of all the people who adore me; without them, my head would be in the clouds." _

_ "That's incredibly generous of you," _ Alec remarks, leaning forward, “ _ With all of the travelling and socializing that you do, do you find any time to relax?” _

_ “Barely,” _ Lila sighs, a world weary sound, _ “But I have a best friend that I stay in touch with constantly. Without him, I don’t know if I would be able to do any of the thousands of things I do throughout my day to help people.” _

_ "You often speak about your best friend being your constant source of strength but we've never seen this mystery companion of yours with you in public. Why is that?" _

_ "Believe it or not, I don't go anywhere without him," _ Lila explains, pointing to the AirPod in her right ear,  _ "But he’s kind of introverted and can't always travel around the world like I can so I always have him on call 24/7. He has a disability, you know, which is why I'm a huge supporter of disabled rights." _

_ “That’s right,” _ Alec Cataldi nods his head,  _ "Your donation to a wheelchair bound fan last month trended worldwide. So what more can you tell us about this secret best friend?” _

_ “He’s very private, which is why I don’t post any photos with him, but we’re together pretty much all the time even when we’re not. He’s been a big asset to my success.” _

Alec smirks,  _ “Does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells in the future?” _

_ “Hardly,” _ Lila starts to laugh,  _ “Noor and I aren’t exactly...on the same playing field, if you know what I mean.” _

_ “Speaking of playing fields, there’s no shortage of people who criticise and complain about influencers. How do you deal with that negativity in your life?” _

_ “I know what you’re getting at,” _ Lila leans back in her chair,  _ “And it hurts, honestly, when I get hurtful comments on my posts, especially if all I’m doing is championing a good cause. Sometimes I can’t believe people can go off on me just for trying to be a little kinder and donating all of my hard earned money,” _ Lila brings her hands to her chest and seems to shrink in on herself,  _ “The worst of it happened when Ladybug came after me during my last visit to Paris, calling me a liar and a cheat. That was the lowest point of my life so far.” _

_ “Even lower than when you lost your mother?” _

Lila immediately straightens,  _ “Of course, nothing was as terrible as losing my mother. That tragedy goes without saying, but when Ladybug reamed me out publically at the charity gala…I looked up to her as a role model for so long and then to have her just...rip me apart like that. It hurt so much, you know? But my LilaHearts stood behind me and supported me one hundred percent.” _

_ “Ladybug’s comments certainly created a movement within your followers last year. Are they still as passionate about hating the superheroine now as they were then?” _

_ “Even more so,” _ Lila affirms, her eyes widening as she leans closer,  _ “They have a whole underground movement going, you know? And they’ve shared some truly terrible things about her that they’ve discovered with me, short of her secret identity of course. I don’t know that yet, but if I did, I’d be suing her for damages.” _

_ “You would?” _

_ “Oh yes. I took a huge loss when she spread all of those nasty lies about me. I’ve since recovered but I must have lost millions in potential clients and companies, which means I wasn’t able to donate as much of my money and time to charities this year as I usually would. She’s directly responsible for the dissolution of my not-for-profit all girls school in the Democratic Republic of Congo, one of the poorest countries in the world. I simply didn’t have enough money to keep it going due to her slanderous comments against me, leaving hundreds of young girls to their unfortunate fates.” _

Alec looks understandably shocked,  _ “And have either of you spoken since the incident?” _

_ “Ladybug wouldn’t reach out to me if her life depended on it,” _ she says with a forced laugh,  _ “She hates me and I can’t understand why, but I think I know enough about her now that I can empathise for her.” _

_ “And what convinced you to take the high road?” _

_ "I see her in a more sympathetic light than I used to,” _ Lila lifts her chin, her expression teeming with compassion,  _ “It must have been so hard to go through what she's gone through, especially after losing the Butterfly Miraculous after the Battle of Paris." _

Watching in mounting horror, Adrien’s heart freezes in his chest.

Oh no.

_ "One of my closest fans was there when the Battle of Paris took place and she overheard Ladybug talking to Chat Noir about it. It's her fault that a magical villain is attacking Paris again. She’s the one that let the Butterfly Miraculous fall into the wrong hands!" _

Alec looks terrified, suddenly beyond words.

_ "I mean, it’s completely obvious that she’s responsible for putting us all in danger. That storm, the strange silhouette standing on top of the Eiffel Tower...I think that everyone knows it and are just too scared to accept it but I know the truth," _ Lila shakes her head, the perfect image of devastation,  _ "Le Papillon is back and Ladybug, the so called ‘hero’ of Paris, let it happen. And now we have to deal with the consequences! How is that fair? Some hero she is, don’t you think?" _

~

“Well,  _ shit. _ ”

Adrien couldn’t have summed it up better himself, “You could have knocked, you know.”

“As if,” Chloé blows in like a hurricane and tosses her purse onto the ground, unzipping her calfskin knee high Louboutin boots and kicking them aside, “This is, like, worst case scenario. Interest in the Agreste Foundation is going to  _ tank _ .”

“Not to mention everyone is going to hate Chat Noir and Ladybug,” Adrien snaps, “I think that’s a  _ little _ bit more of an issue here.”

“Obviously, but Ladybug isn’t the villain here,” Chloé unbuttons her Gucci coat and drapes it over the quartz countertops in their kitchen, “That two faced bitch is. I’m going to kill her and no one is going to know about the body except you.”

“ _ Cataclysme _ is looking mighty tempting all of the sudden,” Adrien wiggles his fingers, catching Plagg’s smirk from across the room; he knows the kwami is considering it just as much as he is, “But Marinette would probably kill me for commiting murder.”

“I would,” says his aforementioned fiancée, walking down the stairs in her pyjamas, “I heard voices. Hi Chloé, what’s going on?”

The two childhood best friends share a glance, “Don’t check social media. It’s not pretty.”

Marinette deadpans and whips out her phone, “What did Lila say? It can’t be any worse than...oh god.”

Adrien and Chloé watch as Marinette’s face blanches only to turn a violent beet red, “Marinette?”

“I’m going to kill her and none of you are going to stop me.”

“I’ll help,” Plagg fazes through the kitchen wall and lands on his favourite Ladybug’s shoulder, “I’ll gladly call on a plague to wipe her out. Or a meteor. Or an earthquake.”

“I love this idea,” Chloé reclines onto their couch, “What do you need? Daddy has connections, you know.”

Adrien grimaces, “Okay, can we not openly discuss committing murder in our appartment? Google is always listening.”

“Fine,” Chloé harrumphs, “So how do we exterminate the pest and get away with it?”

“By any means necessary,” Marinette bunches her hands into fists, “I can’t believe she’s blaming this on me! I didn’t just throw Nooroo’s Miraculous out a window! He left on his own!”

“Exactly,” Chloé growls, checking her manicure, “God, it’s times like this where I wish I still smoked.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” Adrien plops down beside Chloé, tugging at his bags, “And if you whip out your Juul in my apartment, I’m going to kick you out.”

“Rude much?” Chloé crosses her arms over her chest and pouts, “And why was she blaming that snow on Le Papillon anyway? It was just a blizzard, like, welcome to the 21st century. Climate change is real.”

Adrien and Marinette both grimace simultaneously.

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up.”

“It wasn’t Gabriel,” Marinette says before Chloé can get a word in edgewise, “It was a woman, we think.”

“She was up on the Eiffel Tower laughing at us,” Adrien frowns, clenching and unclenching the fingers of his right hand, “Plagg pretty much confirmed it. Nooroo has a new wielder.”

“And we have no idea what she wants,” Marinette begins to pace, “She just up and disappeared right after.”

“And now Lila’s using her grudge against Ladybug in the worst way possible,” Adrien glares at the ceiling, “I knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Here’s a question for you,” Chloé says after a pause, scrolling through her mobile, “Who’s the one who tattled to Lila about losing Nooroo? The only people who heard you guys talking about it that night were the people you gave Miraculouses to.”

“What? Give me that,” Marinette snatches Chloé’s phone right out of her hand and begins reading the interview’s transcript, “‘One of my closest fans was there when the Battle of Paris took place and she overheard Ladybug talking to Chat about it.’ Oh, god.”

“Everyone we chose knew Lila at some point,” Adrien groans, still stabbing the plaster above his head with his glare, “It could have been any one of them.”

“But only one of them still interviews her on a regular basis,” Marinette hands Chloé back her phone, her expression grim, “Alya must have told her.”

“Alya?!” Chloé reels, aghast, “You picked Alya to wield a Miraculous?!”

Adrien frowns, “You don’t know that it was Alya who told her.”

“I can’t think of who else it might have been!”

“Hold on,” Chloé holds up her palms, “Wait a minute. You chose Alya, the biggest mouth in Paris, to be a secret Miraculous holder?”

Marinette purses her lips, “We needed to pick people we could trust that night. I didn’t have time to think of the consequences.”

“Clearly,” Chloé rolls her eyes, “That being said, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lila somehow convinced Alya that she was one of the Miraculous holders too that night—”

“—which sounds like the kind of thing Lila would do—”   


“—so it would make sense that Alya would discuss what happened that night with her.”

“Exactly,” Marinette huffs, “Ugh, this is impossible! How are we going to fix this?”

Chloé presses the back of her palm to her forehead and falls back onto the cushions of their sofa, “Well, we can’t do anything about it now. We have to make a plan on how we’re going to deal with this.”

Marinette raises her hand, “Murder.”

“Still my favourite solution,” Chloé reaches in for her Juul only for Adrien to bat her arm away, “But let’s be real here, even my law school skills aren’t going to save you from going to prison if you get caught.”

Adrien covers his face with his palms and groans, “We’re going to have to call a press conference.”

“I’m already trying to organise one for tomorrow,” Chloé grumbles, tapping furiously on the screen of her mobile, “The top five trending hashtags in France are about Lila and Ladybug and social media is  _ losing _ it.”

“I should have looked harder for Nooroo,” Marinette bangs her head against their living room wall and hisses at the sting, “If I had found him and brought him back—”

“He still would have tried to escape,” Tikki says, suddenly phasing through the ceiling with a roll of green thread, “Come on, Plagg. We need to do something before this gets out of hand again.”

Plagg gawks, “Huh?” 

“The last time something like this happened, Master Fu didn’t activate us until long after it was too late,” Tikki explains to all of them, dropping Marinette’s thread in Plagg’s confused paws before picking up a cherry by the stem and hauling it over her shoulder, “We’re not going to let another Butterfly Miraculous user go rogue if we can help it. Plagg, we’re going to go visit the rest of kwamis.”

“Seriously? I haven’t even gotten to eat yet!”

“If we can concentrate all of our powers together, we might be able to sense him.”

Adrien balks, “But I thought that only works on his birthday?”

“That’s when we can communicate with him through the kwami plane,” Tikki explains, “We don’t want him to know we’re looking for him. We just need to narrow down where he is right now.”

“But we know he’s in Paris.”

“I think if we try hard enough, we might be able to narrow it down to an arrondissement.”

“Do it,” Marinette nods her head, “It’s a start. From there, at least we can start a plan to draw him out.”

Tikki nods, the very picture of determination, “Come on, Plagg. We’re not letting this happen again, especially when they’re going to have a—”

The two kwami phase back through the ceiling before Tikki can finish her sentence.

~

In the half hour that follows, Chloé succeeds in scheduling that press conference and inviting all of the relevant media to attend. Adrien books the day off so he can make an appearance as Chat Noir and together, he and Chloé come up with a rough draft of what they’re going to say. Marinette can’t attend due to work commitments so Chat will be on his own to admit their version of the truth: Nooroo, the object that gave Le Papillon his powers, is sentient and left on his own accord. They’d mentioned him in an interview with Alya right after the Battle of Paris three years prior but they’d had to keep their explanations vague then. Neither he nor Marinette want to inform Paris of the nature of kwamis but Adrien can’t find a solution that doesn’t at least offer an inkling of truth. He doesn’t want Lila to take advantage of their lies and make them look even worse in the eyes of Parisians, especially with a new villain on the horizon.

Marinette brews coffee for the three of them as they continue to strategize. They’ll have to goad this new villain into the open if they want a chance to approach her on their own terms. Marinette has a feeling this won’t go well but Adrien and Chloé don’t feel like there’s any other way to establish a modus operandi; unlike Le Papillon, who stayed in the shadows most of his reign, they need this new villain to meet them out in the open.

“Fear either brings people together or tears them apart,” Adrien says, taking a long pull of his now lukewarm coffee, “I think the only way we’re going to get Paris back on our side is if we use the media to our advantage. She needs to look like a monster in the eyes of everyone.”

“We’re not trusting that pitiful excuse of a reporter again,” Chloé curls her upper lip, still miffed by the very mention of Alya, “She works at Buzzfeed for god’s sake. Utterly ridiculous.”

“It’s a start though,” Marinette runs her fingers through her hair, “Alya likes to overreact. This is the kind of sensasional stuff she loves to eat up.”

“And lots of people still follow her Ladyblog,” Adrien adds, “If one of us approaches her with an ‘exclusive scoop’ on what really happened, there’s a good chance we can get our side of the story out to the masses. Not everyone is going to tune into the Agreste Foundation press conference but if we time it right, Alya could post an interview with one of us in the evening, which is peak time for breaking gossip.”

“Mm, I love it when you talk marketing to me,” Chloé smirks, still tapping away on her mobile, “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re not wrong.”

Adrien releases a laugh through his nose, “Did you hear that, Bug? Chloé just complimented me.”

“Occasionally, you can be smarter than you look,” Chloé bites back as she updates her Twitter feed, “Ugh, finally. Not all of Paris is falling for Lila’s accusations. Some people are coming to your defense.”

Adrien scooches over and peeks over his best friend’s shoulder, “That’s a good sign. I guess Lila has some haters after all.”

“Considering she’s like, the Kim Kardashian of Europe,” Chloé scoffs, “The fact that all she does is brag about her life on social media is so American.”

“You know, you make a good point,” Adrien taps his chin, “We might be able to play off that too.”

“What, the fact that she has no talent so she’s literally just famous for being rich and traveling places?” Chloé rolls her eyes, “She’s not even pretty, unlike  _ moi _ .”

Adrien shares a quick glance of amusement with his fiancée, “No one could possibly be as talented and as pretty as you, Chloé. Everyone in Paris knows that.”

“Which is why I’m going to drag her through the mud,” Chloé clenches her fist, holding it before her, “Lila doesn’t fuck with my Adrichou and get away with it.”

“She’s technically attacking Ladybug, not me.”

“Whatever,” Chloé rolls her eyes, “You’re practically married to her at this point anyway—”

“We’re back!”

Phasing back through the ceiling in a rush, both Tikki and Plagg land with an audible thud on the coffee table, “How did it go?”

The two kwamis look at each other, matching expressions of a completely unnamable emotion written all over their faces, “Well…”

“We didn’t find Nooroo,” Tikki finally makes eye contact only to quickly avert it, turning back to Plagg, “Instead we...we may have made the problem worse.”

_ “What?!” _

“It wasn’t my fault!” Plagg cowers behind Tikki, “I was just using my powers like everyone else—”

“—until we found a huge source of energy just thrumming under our noses and—”

“—we didn’t know what it was! It didn’t feel like Nooroo—”

“—so we prodded at it a bit just to see what would happen—.”

“—and then…”

Chloé, Adrien and Marinette are all on their feet by the time Plagg trails off, “And then?!”

The two kwami share another look, this one far more guilty, “I think we may have inadvertently activated the Peacock Miraculous.”

~

Rachelle Renée slathers another slice of  _ Crottin de Chavignol _ onto the baguette she’d picked up from the bakery below her flat and watches the night market teem with life below her from her kitchen window. She’s mentally checked out after a long day psychoanalyzing people and hardly even flinches when she feels a rush of wind comb through her hair until she realises, quite suddenly, that there are no windows open in her apartment.

She turns ever so slowly, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as she scans the room with her eyes. There’s no movement beyond the subtle drone of her two cats Félix and Brigitte purring on their beds to her left as she scans every shadow and crevice, dimly lit by the light over her kitchen sink. She turns on her mobile’s flashlight and shines it into the corners of the room before turning her attention to the closed door of her bedroom and bathroom, her heart racing. Every part of her fight or flight instincts beg her to stay put and arm herself but she stamps down on those instincts rather quickly, padding silently to the bathroom door. She opens it wordlessly and, upon finding it deserted inside, promptly shuts it behind her.

She doesn’t believe in ghosts but she certainly believes in magic, especially now.

Resting her hand on the doorknob, Rachelle grasps the cold metal and turns it with a click, gently pushing it open just enough for her to fit her hand in and turn on the light. She waits a few breathless moments before nudging the wood with her foot, keeping her hands loose and limber in case she has to fight anyone inside.

Everything seems normal, that is, until she sees her cousin’s broach hovering a good two metres above her purse.

Rachelle rubs her eyes and opens them again. The brooch still hovers in a ball of gently glowing light, unmoving and utterly unsettling. Why on earth is her brooch floating on its own? And why is it getting colder in here? The window is still barred from the inside and the radiators have been pushing out nothing but heat to stave off the winter chill—

_ “Ooooooaaaaaahhh!” _

Rachelle stumbles backwards into the door jam as the brooch bursts into neon technicolour, bathing the room in a blinking strobe light. Crying out, Rachelle squints through the stars in her eyes to try and see anything discernible but there’s nothing but colours and swirls and shapes flooding her bedroom like a disco, leaving her completely blinded.

The light dims after a few moments and with her arms raised, Rachelle finally takes a chance by opening her eyes. There’s very little she’s prepared to say as a creature spirals up from the surface of the broach and ascends towards the ceiling, its ten centimetre stature sparkling as it cries out with glee at the decibel rate of a jet engine. Rachelle debates on whether or not she should have finished off her bottle of Beaujolais as the reality of the situation crashes down over her head like a bag of bricks; she’s seen a creature like this before, but it had been black and green instead of midnight blue.

“Helloooooooo!” it cries, its helium voice waking her cats and sending them cowering between Rachelle’s ankles, “It’s so nice to meet you!”

Rachelle doesn’t quite know what to say.

“Do you live here?” the kwami, as she’s gathered, flies haphazardly around the room, “I want to see the kitchen!”

“Pardon?” The word falls from Rachelle’s lips.

“Ooooh! What’s your name?”

Rachelle’s eyes widen comically as the kwami suddenly appears within centimetres of her nose, “Rachelle?”

“I’m not Rachelle, silly!” The kwami’s giggles sound like jingle bells, “I’m Duusu!”

Rachelle blinks. Repeatedly.

Suddenly, Duusu’s eyes begin to well up with tears, “Aren’t you happy to meet me?”

Rachelle stares in mild horror as the kwami dissolves into sobs before her eyes, “I—I mean, I’m—” she tries desperately to get a hold of herself, “Hi Duusu. I’m Rachelle.”

The wailing stops abruptly, her whimpers replaced with squeals of delight in less than a second, “Hi Rachelle! I’m so excited to meet you!”

“Me too,” Rachelle glances warily down at her cats and finds them staring up at Duusu, licking their chops. It’s a small but grounding moment and she holds that moment in her thoughts in an attempt to make some sense of what the hell is going on, “Okay.”

Duusu’s enormous eyes bulge curiously and all Rachelle can think to compare her to is Ellen DeGeneres’ Dory, “Okay? What’s okay?”

“Okay, it’s time for me to eat the rest of my dinner,” Rachelle spins around on her heels and briefly considers the odds of whether or not she’s dissociating. She has no family history of mental illness but that certainly doesn’t mean she’s entirely immune, “Would you like something to eat?”

“OooooOOOOOooooo!” Duusu comes zooming into her galley kitchen over her shoulder and phazes straight through the door of her refrigerator, much to her surprise. The kwami pops her head out of the steel frame not a moment later, holding a bundle of grapes above her head in delight, “Fruit! I love fruit!”

Rachelle briefly mourns the loss of her grocery budget, “Great.”

“They’ll go perfectly with your cheese board!” Duusu’s squeals of contentment never seem to waver in their unmatched enthusiasm, “It’ll be just like the old days!”

“The old days?”

“Ooooh yes! Plagg and I must have spent half a century drinking wine and eating cheese during the Roman empire,” Duusu giggles, “I prefer fresh grapes but you know, a kwami has to do what a kwami has to do!”

“That explains a lot,” Rachelle murmurs under her breath, sitting back down at her small kitchen table. Félix hops up onto her lap and presses his body to her belly, sensing her ongoing distress, “So you know Plagg?”

“What a silly question!” Duusu swallows six grapes in one go, her little jaw unhinging like a snake to devour them all, “I wouldn’t have brought him up if I didn’t know you were friends!”

“We’re friends?”

“Well, you  _ smell _ like you know him,” Duusu points out, eyeing the rest of Rachelle’s wine hungrily, “And I would know, you know. I spent five hundred years helping him destroy entire civilizations!”

Rachelle grimaces, “That’s...unfortunate.”

“It was fun at the time!” Duusu rests her little paws against the edge of her glass and waves down at her reflection in the wine, “My wielders were lovely. We got up to all sorts of trouble!”

“Mmhmm,” Rachelle snatches the stem of her glass from beneath Duusu’s nose and drains it all in one go, “Well, here in 21st century France, we don’t go around burning empires.”

“Well I know that, silly!” Duusu swallows another half bunch of grapes, “Mme Émilie didn’t let me do those kinds of things either.”

Rachelle’s breath catches in her throat, “You knew Émilie?”

“Of course I did! She was my wielder!”

Rachelle slams her glass back down onto the table, “What?!”

“Mme Émilie and I were together until she fell ill,” Duusu winces, “I tend to have that effect on people, you know. At least lately. I didn’t used to make people sick…”

Slamming her palms over her ears, Rachelle just barely manages to block out her piercing wail of sorrow in time, “Duusu please, you’re going to wake the neighbours!”

“Neighbours? You have neighbors?” Tears suddenly forgotten (again), Duusu glances around her apartment, “Where are we anyway? Are we still in France?”

“Yes,” Rachelle cautiously removes her hands from her head.

“Oh, that’s a relief! I have some things I still have to do!”

“Like what?”

“Like find M. Gabriel and give him a piece of my mind!”

“Gabriel?”

“Yes! If it wasn’t for him, Mme Émilie never would have gotten sick in the first place!”

“What do you mean?”

“He was obsessed with making sentimonsters,” Duusu explains, “She must have tried making one at least once a week. I mean, I’d much rather give a person's emotions power rather than making a whole new creature but I never really have a choice," she giggles almost hysterically, "It's just the way it is sometimes!"

"So Gabriel is the reason why Émilie was sick?"

"M. Gabriel is a terrible man," Duusu shudders, "Can you take me to see him? I want to ruffle his feathers!"

"Gabriel's in jail," Rachelle explains, her fingers completely numb, "Ladybug and Chat Noir caught him and took away his Miraculous."

"OOOOOOOoooOOOOOO!” Duusu’s face seems to embody every single emotion known to man in a single moment, “How wonderful! Will there be a guillotine? I want to go and watch!”

Rachelle nearly chokes, “A  _ what? _ ”

“A guillotine! We are in France after all!” Duusu claps her paws together eagerly, “You know, that’s how my brooch was damaged in the first place! There’s a little crack, just a teeeeeny tiny one, on the edge.”

“Was your…” Rachelle feels appropriately horrified, “...was your wielder guillotined?”

“Oh yes,” Duusu nods emphatically, “Mme Maria Antonia was such fun! Oh, the parties we had together!”

“Maria Antonia…” Rachelle murmurs, drawing a blank, “When was this?”

“Who knows!” Duusu giggles, “Time is so silly, I never know what century it is half the time!”

“Right,” Rachelle responds, completely, “Were you in Paris?”

“Versailles,” Duusu reclines against Rachelle’s cheese board, pruning her feathers, “Sometimes. Most times! Maybe? We used to drink the most wonderful champagne.”

The cogs in Rachelle’s mind slowly grind into motion, “Are you...are you talking about Marie Antoinette?”

“Of course, silly!” the little kwami snorts out her nose, “Who else would I be talking about?”

Rachelle blinks. 

“I don’t know right now honestly,” Rachelle picks up a slice of baguette and coats it with her nearly forgotten goat’s cheese from earlier, still at a complete loss. She’s talking to a clearly deranged, possibly bipolar and definitely damaged kwami who’s former wielders included Roman warlords, Marie Antoinette and...her cousin Émilie? 

“Do you have any more wine?”

Duusu’s voice shakes her from her thoughts, “Hmm?”

“Wine? Red, white, sparkling? It doesn’t matter really,” Duusu shrugs, pointing to her enormously adorable head, “I’m the Kwami of Emotions and sometimes it gets a little loud in here, you know?”

“Huh,” Rachelle nods. Numbly, she gets up and takes one of the shot glasses from her travels off the window’s ledge, rubbing the dust off with the inside of her sweater. She sets it in front of Duusu and fills it before topping up her own glass; leave it to her luck to find a supernatural god with an addiction problem at her doorstep, “Do you like Beaujolais?”

Duusu’s eyes grow comically wide, “I don’t think I’ve ever met a wine I didn’t like!”

“Then I guess we’ll get along just fine then,” Rachelle replies, tapping the bottom of her flute with the edge of the shot glass, _ “Santé.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote in a very specific easter egg into this chapter. I wonder if you caught it?
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing Rachelle and Duusu and I hope you enjoy the shenanigans these two get up to throughout the rest of this story. It's always been my intention to bring Duusu in with Rachelle so that I could work the Emilie storyline back into the story since we've mostly been focusing on Adrien and Marinette vs Lila. 
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	9. Monarchesa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There are explicit descriptions of hand-to-hand combat in this chapter. Consider it on par with any sort of PG-13 action scene in a film in terms of violence. There are no weapons mentioned beyond Miraculous items and there is a brief moment where one character strangles another. 
> 
> Also, Monarchesa is a play on words referring to the Monarch butterfly and a marquise, which is the female version of the aristocratic title marquis. A marquise is lower than a duchess but higher than a countess in terms of royal rankings. I translated marquise into marchesa (Italian) and blended the two names together: Monarch-esa (pronounced mawn-ar-kay-za).

Beneath the blasting lights above the podium, Chat Noir can honestly say that he’s never felt so uncomfortable at a press conference for the Agreste Foundation in his life. 

“Greetings Parisians. On behalf of Adrien Agreste and myself, I want to thank you for coming out this afternoon. Unfortunately Adrien will not be making an appearance today; as you know, he prefers to make announcements from behind the safety of his keyboard.”

He eyes the hoard of media around him, his warning palpable as he continues, “Last night, Italian socialite Lila Rossi made some incredible accusations against my partner, implicating me as well. I can assure you that what she has claimed is downright fabricated and we are currently looking into the source of her allegations. My team of attorneys are also looking into the legal ramifications. As Adrien and I have said before, slander and libel will not be tolerated by us or our organisation.”

“Ladybug has chosen to stay out of the spotlight for the next twenty four hours due to the numerous threats she has been receiving via social media. This won’t be tolerated either. Only truly sick people take pleasure in hurting and threatening others anonymously online and I am disgusted that I have dedicated years of my life defending this city and its residents only to have those of you who have chosen to threaten my partner turn on us like this.”

“Regardless, I’m not here to settle any scores. I am here to let you know the truth about what’s going on. We don’t have much information but we can tell you this: there is a new magical force in Paris. We aren’t sure who or what is behind it but we have our suspicions. Since this person has only appeared once, we can only make an educated guess about what their powers are like.”

The media begins to whisper in earnest before him, “I can also tell you that Rossi was correct about one thing. The Butterfly Miraculous was lost on the night Paris was possessed three years ago. The Butterfly Miraculous is sentient and it left on its own accord. Ladybug and I were not able to convince the Miraculous to stay with us and we were in no way willing to trap a sentient being against its wishes. So no, we didn’t lose the Butterfly Miraculous. It left because it wanted to and we weren’t in a position to stop it.”

Chloé gives him a raised eyebrow of approval; he’s always been a capable liar, especially in front of reporters, “If this new magical force is in fact the Butterfly Miraculous, we will fight back as we did before when it was possessed by Gabriel Agreste. And once we defeat this magical foe, we won’t make the same mistake twice. We will keep the Butterfly Miraculous under guard, even if it’s against its wishes, to make sure that no harm comes to Paris ever again.”

“As for the Agreste Foundation fundraiser in Easter, things are still proceeding as planned. Adrien and I won’t allow a threat to dissuade us from continuing the important work we have been doing together to help save lives at the Children’s Hospital. I will now take questions.”

Bracing himself, Chat faces a category five media hurricane at full force.

~

“Well, that could have gone worse, all things considered,” Chloé says once the doors to her limousine are shut. Chat pointedly ignores the flashes of the cameras that try desperately to penetrate the tinted windows of the luxury vehicle as it tears out of the parking lot.

“I need a spa day,” Chat grumbles, moving over to the long side of the bench so as to stretch himself across the length of it, “I’m done with the media and I’m done with Lila.”

“Mood,” Chloé snatches a travel sized bottle of Pommery POP from the limousine’s minibar and cracks it open, drinking it straight from the mouth of the bottle, “I’ve already called Vincenzo. Khun Mae and the rest of her aestheticians have us set up for a massage and a mani-pedi. And your fiancée is invited too, I guess.”

Chat sighs, “Did you ask her already?”

“No,” Chloé scoffs, “That’s up to you. I don’t talk to Dupain-Cheng unless I absolutely have to.”

“Right,” Chat rolls his eyes, “I’ll text her now.”

Reaching under his back, Chat unlatches his baton and quickly texts her civilian line. He doesn’t wait for her to answer, knowing full well that she’ll inevitably decline, “Okay, let’s just sum this up for a minute. What’s going on social media wise?”

“Your press conference took the internet by storm. Gifs and soundbites are popping up everywhere,” Chloé explains, scrolling through her phone intently, “I’d say you managed to get fifty percent of Paris on your side. The media is trying to dig holes in your case but you killed them with your professionalism. Are you sure you’re not the dom in your relationship? Your voice was  _ intense _ .”

Chat just rolls his eyes, “What about the other half? Do you think I scared them enough to get them to stop threatening my future wife?”

“I mean, I’m not seeing a lot right now. But there’s a gif of you trending worldwide right now where your eyes started doing that creepy glowy thing you do when you’re pissed off.”

“When was that?” Chat asks with a grimace.

“When you were questioned about how people were sending her death threats and yeah, basically people are taking  _ that _ pretty seriously. Like, Tumblr is  _ thirsting _ for it.”

“Of course it is.”

“I think the whole ‘scary cat’ act did it for the meantime but I can’t tell for sure. And Lila hasn’t posted anything since the press conference, despite the Instagram story she posted this morning being flooded with questions asking her to comment. She’s probably prepping a response right now.”

“Well, the second she does, that’s when we’ll give Marinette the greenlight to go to Alya and get Ladybug’s side of the story on Ladyblog,” Chat briefly reads Marinette’s text response, having just received it, “Marinette doesn’t want to come, but I knew that. Text her, she’ll probably listen to you if you threaten her enough.”

“Why am I always doing your dirty work?” Chloé sighs, finishing the rest of her adorably tiny bottle of champagne, “Fine. Oh look, she’s already agreed. Clearly she likes me better.”

Chat cranks his head around and levels her with a look, “You know, if you really want a piece of my fiancée, all you have to do is ask.”

Finally, Chat gets the comeuppance he’s always desired, grinning from ear to ear as Chloé splutters all over herself, “Pardon me?! I do  _ not _ want to do  _ anything _ with Dupain-Cheng!”

“Could have fooled me,” Chat shrugs nonchalantly, knowing full well that Chloé has had her eyes on Marinette (or on her chest, if he’s to be exact) since discovering she was Ladybug, “Not that it matters though. She’d have to be extremely hammered to agree with it.”

“Dupain-Cheng is  _ not _ my type!” Chloé replies indignantly, “Besides, I could have anyone in France if I wanted to!”

“Mmmhmm,” Chat decides to just let it go, “So how far are we from Le Grand Paris? I want to get changed into something more comfortable before going to Vincenzo’s.”

“Five minutes.”

“Purrfect,” Chat closes his eyes and sighs. There’s a sense of underlying dread coursing through his nerves and after spending so many years attached to his Miraculous, Chat has learned to trust the gut feelings he attributes to Plagg. If the little god of destruction is feeling something loudly enough that he can sense it physically through their connection, then something was about to go very, very wrong.

~

And it does, of course. But at least it waited until their nails were dry.

Chloé’s limousine comes to a screeching halt in traffic and the three of them share a glance, somehow intrinsically knowing that their day is about to go to hell. Chloé checks her phone as Adrien rolls down the window, his jaw dropping as a violet lightning bolt streaks across the Parisian skyline, entombing the entire city in a sickly pale mauve.

Electricity hangs in the air as life seems to pause all around them. Parisians exit their cars to stare at the airplanes that hang motionless in the sky and the birds that have been frozen mid-glide, the beat of their wings silenced in the paralyzed, stagnant atmosphere.

“What’s going on out there?” Marinette says, crawling up behind him. Her hands wrap around his waist tightly as he draws his face back into the limousine.

“We have a problem,” Adrien turns to her, prodding his sleeping kwami from the folds of his scarf, “What do you think, Plagg? Does this feel like Le Papillon?”

The kwami of destruction inhales, closing his eyes briefly in concentration, “Yep. This has Nooroo written all over it.”

“Tikki?”

“It’s not Duusu, that’s for sure,” she responds, locking eyes with Plagg, “But this power is like nothing I’ve sensed before.”

Adrien hums, “Nooroo doesn’t have the power to stop time, right?”

“Only the Rabbit Miraculous can do that,” Tikki glances back outside the window, “The only way Nooroo’s wielder can perform any task is if he uses another person as a proxy.”

“So the new Le Papillon has probably given someone the power to pause time.”

“That’s the only way it’s possible. The same thing probably happened with the snow tornado.”

“But we never saw the akuma that day,” Adrien jumps in, scratching at the line of stubble he’d missed shaving that morning, “We only saw the new Le Papillon.”

“There’s only one way to find out what’s going on,” Marinette purses her lips, glancing over towards Chloé, “I’ve been keeping this in my purse just in case this happened.”

Chloé’s eyes grow wide as Marinette reaches into the zippered pocket of her vintage Chanel purse and pulls out a familiar comb, “Chloé, this is the Miraculous of Subjugation. It will give you the power to subdue your enemies. As Guardian of the Miraculous, I need your help to watch out for Le Papillon and her akumas. Do you accept?”

Like a kid in a candy story, Chloé’s awestruck gasp turns into a wild and wicked grin, “Yes! Oh my god, yes! Gimme!”

Marinette holds the enchanted comb just out of reach of Chloé’s fingers, “As Queen Bee, I need you to be on lookout. Your spinning top will serve as your communicator and I’ll need you to relay anything you see to Chat and I, okay?”

“Fine, fine, yes,” Chloé huffs impatiently, beckoning with her hand, “Pass it over, okay? It’s not like I’m going to go rogue or anything. I  _ want _ to help you guys.”

Adrien glances sidelong at his fiancée and smirks as Marinette carefully hands it over. She hadn’t exactly loved Adrien’s plan to include Chloé in their team when he had brought it up after the first attack but she had clearly come around in the end, which was a start,  _ “Plagg, transforme-moi!” _

_ “Tikki, transforme-moi!” _

“Hey you,” Chloé smiles as Pollen appears in a flourish, “Ready to take Paris by storm?”

Snuggling close to Chloé’s cheek, Pollen giggles happily, “Your wish is my command!”

_ “Pollen, transforme-moi!” _

~

It doesn’t take long for the new wielder of the Butterfly Miraculous to make herself known to the citizens of Paris. In fact, Chat Noir and Ladybug are honestly surprised at how openly outrageous she’s being, all things considered. The old Le Papillon had always lingered in the shadows and let others do his dirty work, only stepping out from the sanctuary of his lair if it was absolutely necessary. This new wielder, however, seems keen as mustard to hog the spotlight.

“I am Monarchesa!” she announces with a cackle loud enough to shatter eardrums, materializing from a purple cloud of gleaming vapour over top of the Seine, “And I am here to take every last person in Paris hostage one by one until Ladybug and Chat Noir give up the Miraculouses they’ve stolen!”

Watching the spectacle from atop  _ Le Grand Paris _ , all three Parisian heroes share a dumbfounded glance.

“Right now, as I speak, Ladybug and Chat Noir are hiding a box of Miraculous,” Monarchesa explains to the masses below her as they all stumble out of their cars and buses to catch a glimpse, “They’re  _ hoarding _ them, causing everyone in Paris to be in grave danger! I am here to confiscate them and free Paris from its dictators! Help me, citizens of Paris! Ladybug and Chat Noir need to be stopped!”

“Seriously?!” Ladybug ducks behind the brick barrier and balls her hands into fists, “She’s going to turn everyone in Paris against us!”

“As if we didn’t have enough to worry about with Lila,” Chat Noir squeezes her shoulder before peeking out from their hiding spot again.

“Ladybug and Chat Noir, if you’re listening, I have already taken fifteen Parisians under my butterfly wings. Once I explained to them why I’ve come back to Paris, they seemed quite eager to purge their city of its superhero tyrants! If you want to purify them — not that they want to be saved by you, of course — they’re hanging out quite comfortably at the café on the corner of  _ la Rue Duroc _ and  _ la Rue Masseran _ . Go fetch!”

“That’s our cue,” Chat murmurs, ducking back town towards Ladybug, “What do you want to do?”   


“I want my peace and quiet back,” Ladybug grumbles, pursing her lips, “Chat, I want you to check out the café and see what’s going on over there. If there are akumatized citizens in there, see what you can do to keep them contained.”

“And if she’s just trying to trick us?”

“Then at least we know for next time,” Ladybug responds, opening her yoyo, “We don’t know anything about this Monarchesa either than the fact that she’s...theatrical, I guess.”

Chat’s expression brightens, “Like Megamind, except without the fish!”

“Pretty much,” Ladybug laughs through her nose, “And without the tragic backstory, I’m sure. Once you’re there, let Queen Bee know what’s going on. In the meantime, I’m going to try and get Monarchesa to tell me what she knows.”

Chat frowns, “Are you sure you want to go in alone?”

“I have a feeling she’ll be more inclined to disclose more details if it’s just one on one,” Ladybug says, quickly scanning through a map of Paris on the screen of her yoyo, “Call it a hunch. Anyway, if you go this way, it should be the fastest route to the café.”

Chat quickly looks over the map before giving her a nod, “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a flash.”

“Good luck,” Ladybug turns to Queen Bee as Chat slinks out of sight, “Keep an eye on Monarchesa, got it? And remember, you’re still a new Miraculous user, which means you only have one shot at your Venom attack so try not to use it unless absolutely necessary.”

“So you just want me to watch? That’s it?”

“My focus is going to be on Monarchesa,” Ladybug says, her voice low, “We have no idea what we’re dealing with here. You’re good at digging things up on people and if anyone can figure out just what we’re up against by looking at her, it’s you.”

Queen Bee’s expression twists from annoyed to smug in an instant, “I guess you’re not wrong. She should be easy to suss out anyway, what with the way she’s showing off.”

“Exactly,” Ladybug nods, “Now, stay hidden and stay in contact with Chat, alright? It’s time for me to give Monarchesa a formal greeting.”

~

Revealing herself on the banks of the Seine, Ladybug has to admit that the design of Monarchesa’s suit is a marvel to behold. Fitted in all of the right places, the double breasted suit hugs every curve of her lanky figure. The long sleeves and slim fitting trousers are tailored perfectly, all straight hems and sharp angles to accentuate just how dangerous she can be. Ladybug sparea herself a moment to marvel at the silvery sheen of the fabric before focusing once again on the monster hiding behind the admittedly impressive couture.

“What do you want, Monarchesa?” Ladybug plants her hands on her hips, her stare resolute.

Monarchesa’s grin grows tenfold as she catches sight of her prey, “What I’ve always wanted! To see you burn down in flames!”

“Okay then...” Ladybug mutters under her breath, a little taken aback by the unconstrained hatred in her words, “Well, that’s not going to happen! I’ve defended this city from people like you for years and I won’t be defeated!”   


“That’s because you’ve never met someone like me before!” Monarchesa tilts her head and bares her teeth, “Except that you have already and you treated me like the scum beneath your feet!”

Ladybug hopes Queen Bee caught that particular tidbit as Monarchesa lunges at her, revealing the rapier hiding in her cane. Ladybug leaps out of the way and lands on the boulevard in front of  _ Le Grand Paris _ , widening her stance in anticipation of Monarchesa’s next attack.

The villainess appears before her in her vapour cloud, which quickly disappears as the mask of the butterfly materializes over her eyes, “Mathilde, if you wouldn’t mind, I would love it if you’d lend me a hand.”

Behind the mask, Ladybug can almost visualise the poor, vulnerable woman being made to fight on Monarchesa’s whims and hopes that Chat is able to find her prisoners soon, “What are you doing?”

“You see, I get by with a little help from my loyal followers,” Monarchesa explains with a wicked gleam, raising her palms into the air as static electricity swirls all around her, “It’s so good to be adored and admired everywhere I go and Paris is no exception! By the time I have your Miraculouses and your little box, I’ll be so famous I might as well be a queen!”

Ladybug gasps, her focus wavering as a dozen identical women in purple suits begin marching up behind Monarchesa, “You’ve been trying to ruin my life for  _ years _ , Ladybug. I want to take everything from you, piece by piece.”

“Never,” Ladybug growls, surging forwards. She thwacks Monarchesa in the chin with her elbow and the villainess backs away, blocking Ladybug’s hits to the best of her ability. The Butterfly Miraculous was never meant for hand to hand combat and Ladybug tries to take advantage of that until the rest of her clones finally converge on her. Just as Ladybug knocks the real Monarchesa off of her feet with a smashing blow to the knees, thirty identical voices begin to shout as one.

“I will destroy you, Ladybug! I will make you wish you’d never tried to defy me!”

Ladybug spins around, suddenly faced with a horde of cloned Monarchesas surrounding her. 

_ Take a deep breath _ , Ladybug thinks to herself.

They attack all at once.

Ladybug tries to dodge their advances but there’s just no time as one punches her right in the jaw while another knocks her off balance with a leg-breaking kick. A third Monarchesa makes sure she falls forwards with a curt jab to her shoulders and a fourth skirts around her midair, jabbing her heel into her sternum with a vicious side-kick that leaves Ladybug gasping.

They attack in perfect synchronicity and Ladybug does her very best to defend herself as thirty arms and thirty legs continue to advance against her, moving like clockwork to strike down their target again and again. They never seem to get in the way of each other and Ladybug desperately tries to find an out but it’s too hard and too much and before long, she’s backed up all the way against the wall of a neighbouring storefront. A cloned Monarchesa grabs her and holds her by the shoulder as another two take aim at her face and Ladybug dodges their attacks to the best of her ability, hooking her yoyo on the awning above her head. Using the leverage, she bends her body in half and kicks the closest of the clones away with heels, thwacking their chins and smashing their jaws.

She gets a brief moment of respite to haul herself on top of the awning and get a better look at the situation around her. Ladybug steels herself; this is going to be a very long, drawn out fight.

~

From above, Queen Bee watches as the fight rages on, “Chat, you need to get back over here ASAP.”

_ “What’s going on?” _

“Whatever that bitch said before was bullshit,” Queen Bee explains into the spinning top clutched between her fingers, “She just wanted to split the two of you up and now Ladybug’s getting her ass kicked.”

Chat growls a litany of colourful words that would have made her laugh under different circumstances, _ “Where are you?” _

“Still on top of  _ Le Grand Paris _ facing the Seine,” Queen Bee says, gripping the edge of the brick wall, “She’s right out in front facing at least thirty Monarchesa clones but there’s more coming. I can see them.”

_ “Can you hold them off?” _

“My power only works on one person and there’s about to be hundreds of clones if Ladybug doesn’t find the real one,” Queen Bee scans the battleground for the original and comes up with nothing, “And there’s no way that’s going to happen. We’re screwed.”

_ “No we’re not,” _ Chat huffs, the thwack of his baton hitting the ground audible through the speaker as he tears across the arrondissements,  _ “We’re going to figure something out. Keep an eye on her, okay? And if it looks like she’s going down before I get there, jump in.” _

“I’d rather not—”

_ “Chloé!” _

“Okay, okay! Queen Bee out.”

~

Ladybug continues to parry desperately, struggling under the deluge of Monarchesas coming after her in droves. The flurry of arms and feet coming at her in every direction barely leaves her anytime to concentrate, let alone focus on a plan to get herself out of this mess. Dozens turn into hundreds and eventually, Ladybug begins to weaken beneath their unfailing strength.

Ladybug reels back and grabs the Monarchesa nearest to her by the loose ponytail and yanks, drawing out a scream from all of the clones around her. As she yanks harder, the Monarchesa in her grasps dissolves into a plume of blue-violet smoke, knocking her completely off balance.

The heroine stumbles back, landing hard against an abandoned taxi. Desperate to avoid the onslaught of clones, she somersaults over the taxi and lands on top of its roof, attacking in earnest. She sidekicks and sends two Monarchesas, flying, dissolving into smoke as they smash into the walls of  _ Le Grand Paris _ with a sickening crack. She butterfly twists, knocking two more of the clones away with one shot.

A wall of Monarchesas converge from all sides. They pull back, giving her a brief moment to breath as they form a tight circle around her.

“You should have never tried to stop me,” they say, their voices blaring times a thousand, “And because you did, this is all your fault!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Ladybug heaves, “I don’t even know who you are!”

“Of course you don’t recognize me,” they scream in perfect synchronicity, their voices flooding the boulevard, “You ruined my chances back then, but you’re helpless to stop me now!”

Ladybug surveys the walls of clones and unleashes her yoyo, swinging it as fast as she can manage, “I will stop you. I will always stop you.”

The Monarchesas begin to laugh, “You’re as good as dead, Ladybug! With and without the mask, I’ll take this world by storm. My only regret is that you won’t be alive to see it happen!”

The battle rages once again and Ladybug throws her yoyo out in front of ther, holding the string with both hands as she spins like a tornado. The clones dissolve into smoke as the weapon cripples them but soon there are simply too many to handle as thousands of Monarchesas start pouring in from all sides, focalizing until she can no longer spin without getting hit.

_ “Merde!” _ Queen Bee curses from above, the brick wall she’d been clutching crumbling under the tension of her grip. She can see Chat coming as fast as he can from across the Seine but he’s still too far away as the clones completely overwhelm Ladybug with sheer numbers and Queen Bee has no idea how to stop them. Does she run in and risk being overwhelmed too? Does she drop her spinning top from the rooftop and hope that she paralyses more than one of the clones?

Beneath the mountain of Monarchesas, Ladybug is a blur, punching and kicking and ducking but there’s only so much she can take until she’s choking, gasping, flailing beneath the neverending slew of clones intent of pulling her apart limb by limb. They’re easy to defeat — their hand-to-hand combat skills all but useless — but en masse, they’re practically unstoppable.

She struggles to free herself as more and more Monarchesas climb on top of her, intent on burying her into the belly of their human volcano. All she can think about is the ache in her body and the sheer, mounting terror pulsing in her veins that the very last words she had said to the love of her life was an order to leave. She knows he’ll never be able to handle the guilt if Monarchesa wins this and the thought of that alone frightens her more than the resurgence of the Butterfly Miraculous ever could. Tears beading at the corners of her eyes, she pictures Adrien in her mind’s eye, reaching out to her without the mask and shouting her name.

_ “NO!” _

Bolstered by a sudden burst of energy, Ladybug claws her way out of the enormous hill of Monarchesas but they’re faster, bolstered by numbers, and try to drag her in again. Their nails dig into her calves and ankles as they cling onto her, trapping her within the mound of their furious revenge and Ladybug throws her yoyo into the air in one last act of freedom. She has to live! She has to fight for Paris! She has to live for Adrien and her maman and her papa! She has to live for her future family!

Chat Noir lands at the edge of the fray just as something begins to happen. He sees Ladybug until he doesn’t, a flaming, neon glow suddenly engulfing the place where his struggling fiancée had been seen last. He cries for her as he begins smashing through the clones one by one, his eyes clenching shut against the brilliant, blinding crimson light that’s penetrating Monarchesa’s violent darkness and Chat is desperate,  _ desperate _ to try to set his partner free.

The oxygen is suddenly sucked from the air. The clones pause simultaneously and Chat crouches as a massive red sphere of light explodes from the middle of the swarm, blasting the clones away in a massive tidal wave that completely annihilates all of the Monarchesas along the boulevard. The shockwave slices around Chat, leaving him huddled in a cocoon of energy as something shoots upwards from the epicentre and Chat feels the breath being sucked from his lungs when a victorious Ladybug emerges with two twinkling, transparent wings attached to her back. They beat as invisible as humminbird wings and Chat stares in shock and awe as the corona of power continues to enrobe her body, surging with the power of creation in all of its magnificence. 

Queen Bee’s jaw unhinges.

Chat’s heart has never beat so fast.

And as the light begins to fade, the two heroes can see the dangerous cerulean glow of their heroine’s eyes as she scans the boulevard, her teeth bared and expression furious.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” she bellows, her voice magnified by the sheer power surging through her veins. Chat feels his knees quiver despite himself; still trapped in her cocoon of power, he’s helpless to try and rush to her side, “WHERE ARE YOU?”

“She’s there!” Queen Bee screams from the rooftop, pointing east. Ladybug spins around and dives towards the source of her ire, intent on ending this once and for all.

~

Monarchesa skids to a halt inside an alley and pants, her legs aching from running away so quickly. She hadn’t thought about giving one of her obsessive followers the power to give her super speed, which is a mistake she intends on never making again. She’d been analyzing Ladybug and her movements for years and not once had she ever seen Ladybug sport a pair of wings. Why the fuck hadn’t Nooroo mentioned that that was even possible? Also, wasn’t she also wearing a Miraculous with wings? Why didn’t she get a pair when she transformed?!

Monarchesa braces herself on her knees and closes her eyes, intent on focusing. This is  _ not _ going according to plan and she needs to come up with a solution as fast as possible if she’s going to get out of this without getting her ass kicked. She’d thought she’d been ready but clearly Ladybug had more hiding up her sleeves than she’d initially planned. How dare that Ladybitch pull this kind of shit when she was so close to humiliating her?! Her interview had been the perfect ruse to destroy that bitch’s credibility and really, who are you if you don’t have a reputation to uphold? If Ladybug hadn’t fucked everything up, she’d be wiping Paris with Ladybug’s trashed prestige and ruined character right now! 

That, and Monarchesa had to uphold her side of Nooroo’s bargain. After that, she could rule the world from behind her Instagram once more.

“Mathilde, I need you to do one more thing for me,” Monarchesa growls, invading one of her obsessed devotee’s thoughts through the powers bestowed upon her, “I need another clone, a solid one. Don’t fuck up this time or I’ll unfollow you and never speak to you again.”

_ “I’m so sorry, your Majesty!” _ Mathilde’s voice echoes in her ears,  _ “We live to serve you. You are our Queen!” _

“That’s right. And if you don’t want to live in obscurity like the rest of those pathetic morons, I suggest you try concentrating a little harder. I don’t have all day!”

~ 

Ladybug spots her the second she emerges from the alleyway and leaps on top of her, sending the villainess crashing to the ground. They grapple for a moment, too furious to speak, and Monarchesa flings her back with her feet just as the familiar butterfly mask appears over Monarchesa’s livid eyes

“Cassandra! Give me your powers of strength!”

Suddenly enrobed in black and violet bubbles, Monarchesa emerges twice the size with twice the vigour. Ladybug grits her teeth and hovers in the air, just out of reach, “So you’re using akumas to give yourself powers now?”

“Obviously,” Monarchesa sneers, shifting her shoulders to get a better feel for her stronger body, “Le Papillon was a coward who hid behind the frailties of others, but not me. After all, what fun is victory if you don’t get to be there to see it?”

She lunges and Ladybug ascends, landing carefully on the nearby lamp post, “Are these people even willing to help you? Or did you take advantage of their weaknesses, just like Le Papillon did?”

“Hardly,” she scoffs, knocking the lamp post over with a sidekick, “I have loyal fans who are utterly devoted to me. They’ll do anything to make me happy, including dedicating themselves to me to use whenever I wish. I can do whatever I want and there’s no one who can stop me.”

“Except me,” Ladybug aims her yoyo at Monarchesa’s head only to have it thwacked away like an annoying fly, “You’ll never win so long as I’m around.”

“Which is exactly why I’m here,” Monarchesa leers, using her superior strength to leap into the sky. She snags Ladybug by the ankle and drags her back down to the road, trapping her underneath the villainess’s fingers, “You’re one of the only people I’ve never been able to manipulate. No matter what I did back then, you always threw me under the bus. I was always evil in your eyes and you screwed up my master plan over and over and over again!”

Fighting to escape her grasp, Ladybug scowls, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“God, you really are that stupid!” Monarchesa cackles, her eyes completely berzerk, “I have given you a thousand clues about who I really am and you still can’t see it? No wonder it took you so long to defeat Nooroo the first time!”

Ladybug eventually manages to get the upper hand for a second and wriggles free from beneath Monarchesa’s stranglehold, only to have her wrists trapped above her head, “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?!” Monarchesa sneers, utterly unhinged, “For the first time in your stupid life, I just wish you’d get out of my way!”

Completely immobilized, Ladybug can only kick her feet frantically as Monarchesa reaches down and clamps her hand around her throat. Ladybug manages to take a deep breath in before Monarchesa's gloved fingers begin to dig into her neck but the dizziness is instantaneous as she clamps down harder and harder, laughing maniacally all the while. Ladybug can see her reflection in Monarchesa’s eyes as she watches gleefully, enjoying every second as the life is slowly leached from her body—

**_THWACK!_ **

Ladybug gasps as fresh air floods into her lungs and she scrabbles to her feet without a second to think, leaping into the air to get away with the help of her wings. She blinks the stars from her eyes and finally manages to catch a glimpse of what’s happening underneath her, much to her astonishment.

Paralized completely with venom, Monarchesa lies frozen some twenty metres away. Chat stands before her, having whacked her in the head with his baton as if she were a baseball, and breathes a sigh of relief, “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Ladybug rubs her throat, thankful that her suit took the brunt of Monarchesa’s strangling, “What took you so long?”

“You cover a lot more ground when you can fly,” Chat keeps his baton unholstered as he approaches the incapacitated woman, “Nice wings, by the way.”

“Thanks,” she responds breathlessly, “I have no idea how I got them.”

Chat hums, giving her a quick once over, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m better now that you’re here.”

“Good,” Chat replies, turning his attention back to Monarchesa, “What should we do with her?”

“Hand her over to the police,” Ladybug hisses, marching back over to the prone villainess, “Once we find her Miraculous.”

“I found it, but it’s glued on!” Queen Bee tugs at the dainty butterfly brooch pinned to her lapel and kicks her frozen body in the side when she can’t rip it off.

“Wait,” Ladybug skids to a stop in her tracks and throws her arm out in front of Chat, “That’s not the real Monarchesa.”

“What?” Chat yanks his head around, “Oh  _ shit.” _

“Her powers wouldn’t still be working if she was hit by Queen Bee’s venom attack,” Ladybug points at the frozen violet sky before smacking herself in the forehead, “Queen Bee, keep an eye on the clone. Chat, you—”

“Well that’s just utterly ridiculous,” Queen Bee growls as the clone she’d been gleefully kicking disappears in a cloud of dust, “Where did she go?”

“To lick her wounds probably,” Chat responds, catching Ladybug’s sudden grimace out of the corner of his eye, “Bug? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine once we get back home,” Ladybug responds, rubbing her stomach absently, “I think I need some water and a couple paracetamol.” 

“I don’t blame you,” Chat hugs her, supporting her body with his own, “What are we going to do about Monachesa though?”

“Nothing, obviously. Look,” Queen Bee points upwards as the sky above Paris slowly fades back to its regular blue. Monachesa’s powerful hold over the city wanes and Ladybug breathes a sigh of relief. They may have defeated her this time, but who knows how much more powerful Monachesa could become?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write action very often but when I do, I take twenty years to write it and give up on the editing. Also, who isn't a slut for Ladybug with wings? Come on! I hope you enjoyed that chapter and the new take on Nooroo's powers. We're definitely no where near finished with Lila yet!
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	10. Such a Prankster!

Pacing the penthouse suite of the Shangri-La like a hungry tiger that evening, Lila Rossi, Instagram super influencer and socialite extraordinaire, seethes with rage, “I’m going to destroy her if it’s the last thing I do! How could she have possibly beaten me?!”

“She’s stronger than she used to be, that’s for sure,” Nooroo hovers over the coffee table, his deep violet wings fluttering with irritation, “I don’t know how though.”

“Well, we need to find out how!” Lila growls, the jingle of her phone charms clashing as she hurls her iPhone onto the king sized bed, “She was supposed to be weak! That’s why we waited to attack for so long, Nooroo! I did exactly what you said! I waited! I built an entire army of attention whores who were so desperate for my attention that they would do anything to help me and we still lost!”

“I did everything right. I chose a group of spotlight hungry sluts right here in Paris to prove their loyalty to me. I told them I had the power to destroy Ladybug and they were so fucking desperate to please me, they practically threw themselves at my feet to be chosen as an akuma! And then I akumatized them and I promised to be their “friend” in exchange for their cooperation! I gave them the power to grant me superpowers and I—”

Lila hisses at her reflection in the floor to ceiling windows and screams, “Not using her magic on a regular basis should have made her practically powerless compared to me! I have been manipulating and akumatizing people to do my bidding all around the world for  _ three fucking years _ so I would be ready for this! So I could have all the power! So I could destroy Ladybug in one blow and take this city by storm! That was it! That was the attack I’d been waiting for! And even though I threw everything I had at her, she still won!”

“It’s unnatural,” Nooroo murmurs, tapping his chin absently, “But not unheard of.”

“Not unheard of?!” Lila shrieks, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“There are certain...factors, I suppose, that can alter her powers. I’ve seen it happen before, although it wasn’t something I honestly anticipated.”

“Tell me!"

Nooroo’s colours undulate, dark indigo clashing with blacks and blues, “It could be three factors. She could be sick.”

“That would be the icing on the cake,” Lila harrumphs, collapsing on the couch with a growl, “What else?”

“Something could be wrong with Chat Noir,” Nooroo shrugs, “When one half of the creation/destruction partnerhood is threatened or in some sort of...condition, I guess you could call it, that will usually trigger a surge in the other partner's abilities, whether they know it or not.”

“Chat Noir did seem particularly useless today, not that he was ever very helpful to begin with,” Lila sneers, briefly analyzing her manicure before leveling Nooroo with another glare, “It could happen. What’s the third?”

“The Miraculous of Creation is one of the most powerful forces in existence. Tikki has the ability to create anything and everything but her powers are unhinged unless tethered to a human. However, sometimes, as you know already, our powers can seep through and change the wielder's physiology.”

“I’m not here for a lecture, Nooroo,” Lila scoffs, “I  _ know _ firsthand how fucking annoying it is. I’d much rather sprout a pair of wings like the Ladycunt here but instead, I had to become a fucking  _ empath _ . I couldn’t give less of a shit about other people’s feelings, but here we are!”

“Mmhmm,” the kwami of transmission keeps his expression neutral, “As I was saying, Tikki’s abilities can cause a certain...capacity for conception.”

“Meaning?”

“Tikki’s wielder could turn a single rose into a garden with a touch of her finger. She could sing the right words and light stars in the galaxies. She can ever turn barren fields into fertile grounds.”

“...AND?”

“And I was  _ trying _ to be poetic,” Nooroo rolls his eyes, “But since you’re about patient as the wind, I might as well just say it.”

Lila’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, “WHAT. IS. IT?!”

“She could be...pregnant."

Blinking, Lila wills her thoughts to catch up to her ears, “I’m sorry, did you just say she could be  _ pregnant?!” _

Nooroo takes a weary breath, “I did.”

“Oooh,” Lila sits back and taps her knees absently, her mind racing, “ _ Oooh! _ That would be interesting. She’ll be even easier to defeat now!”

Raising a brow, Nooroo ventures forwards, “Pardon?”

A truly despicable smile crawls along Lila’s lips and stretches across her cheeks, “She won’t be able to transform or fight if she’s protecting a baby, which means if I can take Chat Noir out, I can torture him until he gives me her identity. After that, defeating her will be like child’s play!” Lila throws her head back and cackles, clapping her hands with glee, “And as for the baby, I know what it’s like to be an ‘orphan’. Maybe I can even take the kid for myself if she’s had it! I mean, imagine all the cash I could make off the baby pictures?” 

~

“So what are we supposed to do about Émilie, exactly?”

Fresh from her morning shower, Rachelle wipes her face down with a cloth as Duusu preens her feathers in the mirror, “That’s up to you! We can go singing or dancing or shopping—ooh! I love shopping! Louise and I loved to go shopping in Lyon.”

Rachelle sighs, “What do you mean, it’s up to me? Because if it were up to me, we’d be at the French Intelligence Agency trying to wake Émilie up from her coma as we speak!”

“Shhhhhh!” Duusu hushes her, indigo sparkles sprouting from her forehead, “No one can know I’m here! It’s a  _ secret _ .”

“A loud one,” Rachelle grimaces, glancing at the formal warning from her landlord in response to all of the noise complaints over the past couple of days, “I’m going to get evicted if you keep screaming all the time.”

Duusu doesn’t appear to be listening, “I mean, we  _ can _ go and visit. That would be fun! A visit!”

“Except I’d have to explain why I’m visiting,” Rachelle grumbles, dabbing some toner onto a cotton ball, “And since I can’t let anyone know that Émilie was a former Miraculous holder, I don’t know how I’m going to pull this off.”

“I need to see her,” Duusu rubs her paw against the fogged up glass and giggles when she spots her reflection, “I think. Mostly, I do a lot of guessing. But something is telling me that I need to see her.”

“So you’re just…” Rachelle pinches the bridge of her nose, “You don’t even know if you can help?”

“Help? I love helping! Do you need help?” 

“Yes, I do! We’re talking about Émilie!”

“Ooooh! Mme Émilie! How is she?”

Rachelle throws her arms into the air, “She’s in a coma because of you, apparently!”

“Oh dear,” Duusu reels backwards, her eyes welling up with tears, “It’s because I’m broken! I have a...a crack!”

Phasing through the mirror, Duusu appears not a moment later with the brooch in hard, “See? It’s right here. And everytime Mme Émilie transformed, the crack got a little bit bigger!”

“And how do we fix your crack?”

“There’s only one way to fix it,” Duusu appears to be lucid for a whole millisecond before her eyes gloss over again, “But I can’t remember how!”

_ “Putain,” _ Rachelle swears under her breath and starts combing through her tresses, “There was a man who was helping us for a while, Wang Fu. Does that name ring a bell?”

Duusu shakes her head.

“Figures. Not that it matters anyway. He tried to figure out what was wrong with Émilie for a few months before disappearing into the sunset with some old flame,” Rachelle sets down her brush and adjusts the towel around her chest, “Maybe if he’d known about her connection to you, he would have been able to help us bring her back.”

“I’m sorry,” Duusu murmurs and Rachelle is now actively paying attention to the different personalities that seem to shine through at any given time; it’s clear the crack in her brooch is affecting the kwami far more cognitively than Rachelle had initially assumed, “I can think of one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“I don’t know why,” Duusu sets her brooch down and sits atop of it, “But Plagg would know. Plagg is smart!”

Giggling anew, Rachelle realises that she’s lost the kwami’s brief moment of focus yet again. She finishes her makeup, leaving Duusu to make faces at herself in the mirror as she tries and concentrates. Her brother would  _ kill _ her if she brought up Émilie’s predicament in front of Adrien, not to mention the potentially dangerous fallout she’d have to face when he realises that his mother has been lying in a coma in the FIA for three years without his knowledge. Rachelle wishes she had just been honest with her young patient outright; it would have saved her a lot of trouble but it would have caused a lot of chaos too.

“I have an appointment with Adrien today,” Rachelle announces, leaving her bathroom for her bedroom. Her cats lie like furled scarves on her bed, wedged between her pillows, “At 14h. You’re welcome to talk to Plagg then, but not Adrien.”

“Adrien?”

“Plagg’s wielder.”

“Ooooh! I want to meet him!”

“Absolutely not,” Rachelle scolds, digging through her dresser for a pair of trousers, “He’ll flip out if he sees you.”

“But I—” 

“NO,” Rachelle wags her finger in Duusu’s face, “And that’s final. No if, ands or buts.”

The kwami of emotions crosses her paws across her chest and pouts, “Signora Artemisia never said no to me like that.”

“Well, I’m not Signora Artemisia, am I?” Rachelle tugs a sweater over her head and plants her hands on her hips, “Now, are you going to behave yourself? Or do I need to forget to buy the wine again?”

Duusu’s pupils blow wide, “No! I promise! I’ll behave!”

“That’s what I thought,” Rachelle responds, slipping back into the bathroom to fasten the peacock brooch to her favourite scarf, “Now, we’ve got to get going. Someone has to pay the bills in this apartment and I’ve got a jam packed schedule filled with people who need me.”

~

#  The Ladyblog

### OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPT - LADYBLOG - MARCH 6

  
By Alya Césaire  
Senior Journalist

  


CÉSAIRE: Thank you so much for joining me, Ladybug! Drop the scoop on me, girl.

LADYBUG: Thank you for having me, Alya. I’m really glad that you were willing to report on my side of the story.

CÉSAIRE: Of course! I’ll always jump at the chance to interview my favourite heroine! So tell me, what happened yesterday?

LADYBUG: Well, a new villain attacked Paris. She’s using Le Papillon’s Miraculous.

CÉSAIRE: And she calls herself Monarchesa? That’s a strange name.

LADYBUG: After doing some research, we’ve come to the conclusion that her name is inspired by the Italian language. It’s helped us narrow down the field a little.

CÉSAIRE: Nice catch! Did you figure that out? Or did Chat Noir?

LADYBUG: Chat Noir speaks multiple languages. He put it together right away.

CÉSAIRE: Iiiiiiiinteresting. So, what kind of beef does Monarchesa have with you and Chat Noir this time?

LADYBUG: The usual. She wants our Miraculouses.

CÉSAIRE: And the other Miraculouses you apparently own?

LADYBUG: I am the guardian of the Miraculouses, so yes. It’s my job to keep them safe from people like her.

CÉSAIRE: And…? Do you want to elaborate on that?

LADYBUG: Not at the moment. After all, Monarchesa could be listening.

CÉSAIRE: Damn. Well, it was worth a try. That battle looked pretty tough though. Can you tell us what was going through your mind?

LADYBUG: A lot of things. But for me, my priority is to keep Paris safe. When I defeated her yesterday, that was my number one goal.

CÉSAIRE: We wouldn’t expect anything less than that from the heroine of Paris! Your new costume has been trending since we reported on it here first on the Ladyblog. Your wings looked amazing! But I notice you’re not wearing them now.

LADYBUG: They were a Lucky Charm I called on while I was fighting. The wings aren’t a permanent feature to my costume, but they were very useful at the time.

CÉSAIRE: Really? They didn’t look like any Lucky Charm I’ve ever seen.

LADYBUG: It’s...all kind of a blur, honestly. That’s all I can really say about it.

CÉSAIRE: No worries, girl. I also noticed some photos of a former hero appearing on social media, Queen Bee. Why is she back?

LADYBUG: Queen Bee is a trusted ally. We needed a third person to help us understand exactly what we were up against.

CÉSAIRE: A trusted ally, hm? What about the other heroes that were chosen way back when Paris was attacked three years ago? Like Rena Rouge? Or Carapace? There must have been at least ten heroes there to choose from.

LADYBUG: I had to pick a hero I could trust. I knew Queen Bee could stay quiet if we asked her. I can’t say that about the other heroes.

CÉSAIRE: And why’s that?

LADYBUG: Because one of them told Lila Rossi secrets about what happened that night. I’m sure you saw the interview where she admitted that one of the temporary heroes let her in on the details.

CÉSAIRE: Ah… Right. Well, speaking of Lila Rossi, how do you plan on responding to her claims?

LADYBUG: I don’t. Lila Rossi is just an Instagram influencer. She’s a narcissistic, rude person who’s going out of her way to advertise our so-called rivalry for fame. I couldn’t care less what she has to say about me because she doesn’t matter to me. The only thing that matters to me is keeping the people of Paris safe and I can’t do that if I’m worried about a self-obsessed influencer who has nothing better to do than create fake fights for followers.

CÉSAIRE: … Wow, that was quite a statement!

LADYBUG: And that’s all the time I have at the moment. Thank you so much for having me on, Alya. It’s always great to see you.

CÉSAIRE: No, thank you for coming, Ladybug! It was an absolute pleasure to talk to you again!

LADYBUG: The pleasure’s all mine. See you soon!

**END TRANSCRIPT.**

~

Adrien glares at the ceiling of his psychiatrist's office and tries not to frown; Chloé would never let him live it down if gets wrinkles prematurely, “I don’t know who Monarchesa could be and I don’t know what her problem with Ladybug is but she’s causing Marinette more stress than she’s worth. And when Marinette gets stressed, everyone around her gets even more stressed.”

“Understandable,” Docteur Renée nods, seeing Adrien’s inner turmoil from afar, “Marinette has a magnetic quality about her. How much of it has to do with her Miraculous, do you think?”

“A lot,” Adrien shrugs, “Before I came to school as a kid, she had no friends. Sometimes she’ll talk about being the weird, artsy kid no one liked very much, but when I came to school and we both got our Miraculous, she suddenly became everyone's friend. Well, everyone except Lila.”

“Lila Rossi certainly has it out for Ladybug,” Docteur Renée leans back, “That interview was...something else.”

“It was hard on her,” Adrien sighs, “But yesterday, I convinced Marinette to share Ladybug’s side of the story and Alya posted Ladybug’s interview on the Ladyblog last night. The media seems to be siding with us again, for now...it’s not even about the popularity or whatever; it’s just the stress of being put on blast.”

“Do you think Lila suspects Ladybug is Marinette and maybe that’s why she’s going after her so publicly?”

“Lila doesn’t do subtle,” Adrien grumbles, shaking his head, “If she knew Marinette was Ladybug, she would have exposed her to the world already in the worst way possible.”

“Good to know,” Docteur Renée makes a quick note with her stylus. Anyone who could potentially upset the status quo of Adrien’s temper was worth noting, “Keeping your head down is probably the best course of action right now.”

“Except I’ve got an Easter fundraiser for the Agreste Foundation coming up at the end of the month, not to mention I was supposed to go to Saint-Tropez with Marinette and Chloé in April.”

“But I thought you two sorted that out, right?”

“Kind of,” Adrien harrumphs, “Marinette agreed to stay engaged.”

“That was highly unfair of her to do that to you to begin with.”

“Exactly. And she realises that, but I don’t know if we’re still going on our trip.”

“You could always reschedule. It’s not going to be very warm in April anyway.”

“That was the only time she could book time off from work,” Adrien shrugs, “I guess we’ll deal with it when the time comes. Reminding her of anything right now just stresses her out. Ever since the fight, she’s been...I don’t even know how to describe it.”

“Bouncing off the walls?”

“Pretty much,” Adrien combs his fingers through his hair, “Whenever she gets stressed out, she throws herself into her work. I swear, she’s probably sewed at least eight dresses since Monarchesa attacked.”

“I think you need to find a mutually satisfying way to get her to relax,” Docteur Renée watches his reaction closely, “And anyway, that’s not the real problem that’s bothering you. Marinette’s behaviour is just exacerbating your own anxieties.”

Adrien sighs, “I’ve been thinking about Maman lately. She’s not going to be around for my official engagement or my wedding and...I know she really would have liked Marinette. But still…”

Docteur Renée tenses, “It’s natural to grieve for the moments you won’t be able to share with her. There’s nothing wrong in spending some time reflecting on it.”

“I just...I don’t like wasting time thinking about things that aren’t going to happen.”

“There’s a difference between imagining her there and grieving for her loss,” Docteur Renée replies, “It’s not a crime to daydream but acknowledging her absence is different from directing movies in your head.”

“Yeah…” he trails off, punctuating his thoughts with a loud exhale, “They never did find out where... _ he _ must have buried her.”

Docteur Renée swallows around the lump in her throat.

“When they tried him for her murder last year, he kept saying she was alive but…” Adrien shakes his head, “I think solitary confinement has made him go insane.”

“Gabriel was insane to begin with,” Docteur Renée murmurs under her breath. Adrien hears her, obviously, “Sorry. I’m supposed to be the objective one here.”

“It’s alright,” he says with a dry smirk, “I think everyone in Paris is allowed to hate him. He tortured us for years.”

“Some more than others.”

Adrien hums, “Were you ever akumatized?”

“I was turned into all sorts of creatures,” Docteur Renée grimaces, “But I was never actually akumatized myself. I know people who were though, people who I know personally. I can’t comment about my clients.”

“I’m glad that you didn’t have to go through it,” Adrien glances back at the ceiling, “I’ve never been either, obviously, although with the Butterfly Miraculous on the loose again, I’m not so sure I’m safe anymore.”

“The way you described Nooroo...it seems strange that he’s working with someone who has bad intentions again.”

“I thought about that too,” Adrien remarks, “But Miraculouses can be corrupted. Marinette and I figured that out while we were translating the grimoire last year and we’re thinking that might have happened to him. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“If that’s the case,” the therapist steels herself, “can a Miraculous become broken?”

Adrien tips his head to the side, his eyes wide and curious, “They can be. One time, Bunnix came from the future to tell me I damaged her Miraculous with my  _ cataclysme  _ which meant she couldn’t use it properly anymore. It hasn’t happened yet but according to Bunnix, there’s a thousand and one different timelines running all at once. Who knows, maybe in one timeline I became an evil villain!” Snickering, Adrien sits up and shakes his head, “The real expert on the Miraculous is Marinette. She knows everything there is to know about each and every one of them, for the most part. I make a good sounding board but she’s the real brains behind this operation.”

“I’m sure she values your input as well.”

“Well, I’ve always been pretty good at taking all of her crazy theories and putting them together into something that actually makes sense when she needs someone to listen,” Adrien braces his elbows on his knees and looks through the fringe of his bangs, “We make a good team.”

“You do,” Docteur Renée smiles, “Which is why you need to come up with a mutually satisfying way to relax together, like I said before. What usually works when she’s gotten worked up in the past?”

Adrien drums his fingers against his chin for a moment, “Long baths. Massages?”

“That’s a great start,” Docteur Renée glances up at the time, “And a great finish. I’ll see you in three weeks?”

“Yep,” Adrien pushes himself to his feet, “I think I’ll pick up some roses on the way home too. She loves pink ones.”

“A wonderful idea,” the therapist smiles, “Good luck tonight. And if anything comes up with Monarchesa, any strange feelings or issues you feel you need to talk to me about, let me know and I’ll put you on the cancellation list.”

“Sounds good,” Adrien salutes her with a flick of his wrist, “Say hi to Félix and Brigitte for me!”

“I will,” she responds, and watches as the barn door firmly closes behind him, “Duusu? You can come out now.”

“OOOOOoooooooOOOOOOOO!” the peacock Miraculous zooms out from beneath the floorboards in a flourish, leaving tiny blue sparkles in her wake, “That was sooooooo much fun!”

Rachelle snags Duusu by her tailfeathers and traps the kwami between her palms, “Did Plagg tell you what you need to do?”

“He couldn’t believe it was me!” Duusu giggles, snuggling into Rachelle’s ‘embrace’, “And I couldn’t believe it was him!”

“Look, I’m really glad the two of you caught up,” Rachelle tries desperately to keep her patience, “But did you tell him about Émilie?”

“Yes!”

“...and?”

“He almost  _ cataclysmed _ your floor!” Duusu throws her head back and laughs, “He’s so funny, that Plagg! Such a prankster!”

Rachelle pales, “What else did he say?”

“Well, we talked about my crack,” Duusu bobs her head, closing her eyes for a moment, “He’s going to talk to Tikki about it.”

“Will Tikki know what to do?”

“She’s the kwami of creation!” Duusu’s feathers tickle her palms, “Of course she’ll know what to do!”

~

Tikki did not, in fact, know what to do.

“She said _ WHAT?!” _

“SHH!” Plagg slaps his paws over her lips, “He’s not supposed to know!”

“What do you mean he’s not supposed to—” Tikki sputters as the heavens suddenly open above Paris, flooding the streets with torrents of rain, “—she’s his  _ mother!” _

“And  _ they’re _ having a date night!” Plagg snaps back, tugging at his whiskers in earnest, “Adrien will feed me nothing but mozzarella for the rest of the  _ year _ if I mess up his disgusting mating ritual!”

Tikki opens her mouth to retort but falls short, releasing a furious breath instead, “So Duusu told you all this?”

“Turns out she’s been with his therapist since Gabriel’s arrest,” Plagg replies, shuddering as his counterpart’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, “I know, I know. I should have sensed her too, but hey! Marinette’s met her before and you didn’t sense Duusu’s presence either.”

“Except you’ve been to her office a hundred times!”

“And I sleep through most of it!” Plagg’s tail snaps to the tune of a lightning strike, “Besides, Duusu’s Miraculous is broken.”

Tikki’s eyes widen, “Broken?”

“Cracked on the side, according to her.”

“How?”

“Guillotine.”

“Guillotine?”

_ “Vive la France,” _ Plagg mutters, “Where were you during the French Revolution, anyway?”

“The United States of America,” Tikki responds, the rain letting up somewhat, “With Deborah, and then Eliza.”

“I thought you were in London?”

“I was, but—” Tikki’s gaze narrows, “Stop changing the subject. This is serious, Plagg! Between Marinette’s condition and now  _ this _ —”

Plagg’s energy fizzles as a bolt of electricity collides with the rods on the Eiffel Tower, “—I know it’s serious, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Besides, there’s a slice of cambozola waiting for me on the counter—”

“Not a chance,” Tikki snags him by the paw before he can escape their conversation, “We’re going back into the Kwami dimension and figuring this out for good. Come on!”

~

Adrien’s plan is going absolutely swimmingly.

Getting her shirt and bra off was easy, especially since he’d just caught her changing out of her work clothes for the evening. She was reluctant at first but it didn’t take much to woo her into letting him straddle her waist and massage her aching muscles, especially once he tells her that there’s a bouquet of flowers and a box of presents waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

“I even bought some of those bath bombs you like,” Adrien brags, digging his thumbs into her bare shoulders.

“Mmmmm…” Marinette moans, squirming a little as he hits a sore spot. He backs off for a moment before going back at it, determined to dig every knot from her muscles, “The pink plum ones?”

“And the lilac ones too,” Adrien confirms, driving his fingertips into the tender muscles between her neck and shoulder, “I thought maybe you could have a bath later while I make us dinner.”

“I don’t want to have a bath without you,” she murmurs, her lashes fluttering as he applies a little more pressure to her skin. He’s glad he remembered to change into loose sweats this evening, his arousal already getting the best of him at the very notion of crawling into their claw foot tub with her naked body pressed against him, “We haven’t done that in ages.”

“Or ever,” she exhales, her lips parting as he continues rubbing circles against her skin, “I can’t believe we’ve never had sex in a bathtub before.”

“Good thing we found an apartment with one,” Adrien shifts his weight forwards, “Once you’re putty in my hands, I’ll turn on the water.”

Marinette hums, “You were supposed to find an apartment with a bath last time.”

“Finding a one bedroom apartment with a bathtub in Paris for €1,800 a month? That wasn’t going to happen,” he presses a kiss between her shoulder blades, “But now that we’re combining our incomes and we’re both employed, finding one in our neighbourhood was a lot easier.”

“Still…” Marinette murmurs into the matress, “You know I’ve always wanted to have sex in the bath.”

“And I offered you the hot tub at  _ Le Grand Paris _ —”

“I was  _ not _ having sex in a public hot tub. Getting caught on camera once was enough!”

Adrien snickers, “I think I still have a copy of it on my old laptop if you ever want to watch it again.”

Marinette shudders, “Will we ever live that down?”

“Here’s a better question: did you know it’s outnumbered Kim Kardashian’s sex tape by a million views?”

Marinette lifts her chin up and stares at him, “No way.”

“Yes way,” Adrien grins, pressing her back onto the sheets, “Our bare naked asscheeks are more popular than hers!”

“That’s…not comforting.”

“But it is satisfying!” Adrien holds up a finger, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face, “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t feel even a hint of pride at being the star of the most watched sex tape of all time.”

“Wasn’t this supposed to be relaxing?” Marinette grumbles, pinching his thigh as hard as she can manage in her position. He yelps and flicks her in retaliation before massaging once again, “That’s better. More massaging, less talking.”

“As you wish,” Adrien doubles down in silence, appreciating her little hums and groans as he journeys down her spine. He follows the contours of her muscles, her nearly otherworldly strength thrumming just under the surface of her skin. Of all of her features, he’s always been fond of her back; he can’t count all of the times he’s connected the freckles on her back with the edge of his fingernails on the nights when he’s still burning, unable to fall asleep.

“I can hear you thinking,” she murmurs, jolting him out of his reverie.

“I was thinking about how sexy your back is,” Adrien smirks, flattening his palms on either side of her hips, “And how funny you look when you’re trying to wash it with that bath lily thing every morning.”

Marinette’s eyes pop open, “I am this close to having that bath myself and locking the door.”

“You know, you could always let me help you wash your back,” Adrien retorts, knowing an empty threat when he sees one.

“Then you’d get into the shower with me and I’d never get out of the house on time.”

“And your point is?”

“My point,  _ mon matou, _ is that I would be late to work.”

“Work, shmork,” Adrien sinks his thumbs into her lower back and grins as she slumps into the sheets like a dollop of batter, “Time is a construct. Why work when we could just have mindblowing sex all the time and save the world while we’re at it?”

“Because then we wouldn’t be able to afford a nice apartment,” Marinette’s toes curl as he hits a sweet spot at the base of her spine, “And all of your designer bags. You’re obsessed, by the way.”

“So what? I like to enjoy the finer things in life,” Adrien fingers begin to skirt a little lower with every pass, “Have I ever criticized you for having like, fifty pairs of shoes?”

“Shoes are different.”

“No different then bags and wallets.”

“They’re totally different. Shoes can make or break the perfect outfit.”

“And a gorgeous, vintage lambskin crossbody doesn’t?”

“That Yves Saint Laurent one you bought last month is basically a glorified fanny pack and you know it.”

Adrien gasps, “How  _ dare _ you compare my crossbody with a  _ fanny pack?! _ ”

“I’m not comparing,” Marinette snorts, “It’s literally a fanny pack you wear over your shoulder.”

“I’m...I’m not talking to you ever again.”

“Mmhmm,” Marinette smirks, “Why don’t you go a little lower?”

“I am  _ not _ massaging your butt after you insulted my favourite bag!”

“Maybe I’ll just have to massage it myself then,” she says, reaching back. She shifts her hips and exposes herself to him, her lips already glistening with arousal.

Adrien gulps, “Oh.”

“You know, you could always put your mouth to better use,” she suggests, wriggling a little back and forth, “I don’t know how much more obvious I can be here.”

Gobsmacked, Adrien unstraddles her and gawks as she pulls herself up onto her knees and presses her breasts to the mattress, spreading her cheeks and knees right before his eyes. He really can’t help himself; he reaches up and runs the pad of his index finger up and down her slit and shudders as she groans and pushes her thighs even farther apart, eager for his attention. She’s soaking wet and he repeats the gesture over and over again before burying his face between her legs.

“Yes....” Marinette keens as he gets to work, her relief palpable as her thighs quiver against his jaw. He works his tongue against her clit and cleaves her open with his lips, moving back and forth to get a rhythm going. It’s a strange angle but it’s nothing he hasn’t done before as she bucks against his mouth, greedy for the friction when he grabs her ass and  _ squeezes _ .

_ “Hng!” _

He slips two fingers inside of her and marvels at how easy she is to rile when they’re feeling the effects of the heat singing through their veins, fueling her impatience and those sweet, wanton moans she’s making now. He pulls away for a moment and lavishes the skin around her centre with kisses as he pumps his fingers in and out, unable to ravish her clit and finger her at the same time in this position. She doesn’t seem to mind though, the slip and slide of her arousal easily making room for a third. 

“Oh god,” she groans into the sheets, grinding her hips against his fingers with every thrust, “Please, I’m...you’re so— _ fuck _ —good to me.”

Adrien’s tempo increases, licking his lips at the babbled praise. Years ago, Chloé had introduced him to the term praiseslut and Adrien, as embarrassed as he had been back then, can’t help but identify with the label now, “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” she whispers, drawing out the word as she reaches between her legs and starts massaging her clit as fast as she can manage. He picks up the pace in kind until his arm is burning and she’s mewling with every breathy exhale, the sloppy sounds of their lovemaking filling his ears. She looks amazing like this, her eyes closed, her lower lip swollen from gnawing on it, her eyebrows pinched together as she nears her peak, “Please. Adrien,  _ please… _ ”

He can’t resist her when she pleads, a slave to her sweet words and even sweeter taste as he curls his fingers inside of her and strokes her g-spot hard and fast with just enough pressure to completely soak his hand the moment she clenches around his fingers, his name tumbling from her lips. She shudders almost uncontrollably, bucking back as he fucks her through it, her arousal dripping down his forearm onto his thighs.

“I love it when I can get you to do that,” Adrien snickers, glancing down at the puddle on the bedsheets, “Looks like I’m doing the laundry tonight.”

Marinette whines uncontrollably and flops bonelessly onto her side in response.

“I also love it when you do this,” he gestures to all of her, not that she can see him; her eyes are closed, her mouth wide open as she gasps for breath, “I could take you anyway I want.”

She groans, her hips twitching just a little as her eyelids flutter open, dazed beyond belief.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Ah…” she slides her leg up just enough to expose herself again, her thighs and lips positively  _ drenched _ .

Adrien palms himself through his sweatpants and smirks, “As you wish, M’Lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would reward your readership with a little smut at the end ;)
> 
> Is Marinette really knocked up? Only time will tell...


	11. Just Seeing Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaack!
> 
> I want to give a huge shout out to the people who helped support my new computer! I've been without one for a month (it literally melted down...there was smoke!) and it was expensive as hell to replace it. I shouted into the void of Tumblr for assistance and many of my wonderful readers helped me through caffeinated means and I cannot thank them enough! The Mouse, Erin, SailorMiaka, overworkedunderwhelmed, alienduck, Mar, naresar, serenagold, Yuna21, Lady Herveaux, chatonne-rousse and anons, this one is for you! THANK YOU!

Thoroughly fucked and surrounded by bubbles, Marinette lays back against Adrien’s chest and luxuriates in the warm water and the effervescent bath bomb fizzing up from the foot of the tub. It smells like sugar plums and mandarins and Marinette closes her eyes against the flickering candlelight for a moment, if only to soak in the peace and quiet around them.

Tonight’s the first time since their fight with Monarchesa that she hasn’t had to keep her hands busy just to ignore the creeping feelings of dread clawing through her stomach. She’s been wracked with anxiety since Adrien more or less dragged her home after the battle and shoved her into the shower, his eyes wide with worry as she stared blankly at the tiles. He’d had to crawl in with her after, washing her hair and body with gentle fingers and soft words just to keep her panic at bay. He always knows when to step up and support her, helping pat her skin dry and dress her in the softest pyjamas she owned. 

They chose not to speak too much about it the next day and Marinette threw herself into her design work at Colette Paris until her back ached from being hunched over a desk for so long. Even her colleagues had been worried; one of her assistants practically had to drag her out of her seat just so she would go and get her lunch from the staff room. It was a fairly known quirk of Marinette’s to drown out her emotions by working herself into exhaustion and her colleagues caught on quickly, asking her what on earth was going on.

They’d eventually soused it out of her, her worry about the new villain wreaking havoc on Paris. All of her colleagues were quite troubled as well, which only set Marinette’s nerves on edge even more than they already were. And after two more work days of fidgeting anxiously and multitasking to the point of doing twelve things at once, Marinette was more than relieved that her soon-to-be fiancé had reinstated their dominant/submissive status quo and fucked her raw.

(He’d even made her squirt!)

He’s only ever managed to achieve that level of orgasm from her twice before and she’s never been able to do it herself, her fingers not quite long enough to reach that little bundle of nerves hiding deep inside of her. But lo and behold, he’d somehow found it on a whim and literally wrenched an orgasm so strong out of her that she’d barely been able to move after, let alone form a cohesive thought. It had felt amazing when he’d climbed up her slack body and rutted into her from behind, coming inside within mere minutes of her own mind blowing release.

Which is how both of them got to this point, up to their shoulders in scented pink bathwater. Adrien’s heart beats a steady tattoo against her back and she lets her head tip to the side, her cheek pressed against his skin. She loves him so much right now as his fingertips trace haphazard patterns along her stomach and thighs, a mindless movement she’s long become used to over the years. He’s always been keen on touching her constantly, his fingers always weaved between her fingers, his arm always draped over her shoulders. It’s like he can’t get enough of her and Marinette admits that the way he covets her sends her feelings for him skyward every time she pauses long enough to think about just how much he craves every aspect of her body, mind and soul.

She smiles as his wandering touch boldens, skimming her hips and ambling downwards past her belly button. His nails rake through her neatly trimmed pubic hair and saunter back up her abdomen, repeating the same slow, lazy design over and over again until she begins to feel her pulse throb through her clit.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” Marinette rests her hands on his wrists as they continue to explore her body, “But if you keep doing that…”

“...you’re going to be up for round two?” Adrien murmurs in her ear and she can practically hear his hungry grin, “Because I’ve been thinking about all of the different ways we could have sex in this tub.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve made a mental list actually,” Adrien says, his chest puffing with pride, “Want to hear it?”

Marinette laughs, “Tell me all the ways you could ravish me.”

“Okay,” Adrien’s fingers slide up her body and cup her breasts, his thumbs gently massaging her skin, “So I was thinking, if I sat up on that ledge, you could totally blow me.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And if you stood up and propped your leg up on the side, I could sit underneath you and eat you out.”

“I might slip.”   


“Good point,” Adrien hums for a moment, pensive, “Well, it would be easy to give me a handjob. All you’d need to do is turn around. And if we stayed like this, I could finger you.”

“I like it,” Marinette relaxes into his embrace as he continues to massage her breasts, his fingers gently squeezing and tugging on her nipples with every pass.

“Then I thought about actual sex. So first, I was thinking that you could kneel and kind of brace yourself on the edge of the tub, right? And then I could go at it from behind. Or I could sit on my knees and you could straddle me.”

“We’d flood the bathroom if we did that.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he nods, brushing his palms across her chest, “We could stand up and do it but again, slippage. And the only slipping I want to do is slipping into that sexy body.”

Marinette snorts and rolls her eyes, “Okay, Romeo.”

“Hey now, I’m trying to talk science here, not woo you.”

“You’re talking about all the ways you want to have sex with me...and you’re not trying to woo me?”

“One thing at a time,” he assures her, “My brain is only capable of thinking about one thing, unlike you, Mme I-Have-To-Wash-The-Dishes-And-Fold-The-Laundry-And-Design-A-Chemise-All-While-On-A-Conference-Call.”

“Okay, can we get back to the sex please?”

“It’s your fault. You distracted me.”

“And I’m about to distract you even more if you don’t keep telling me all about the sex we could be having.”

“Alright, alright,” Adrien heaves a sigh, “Okay, so. Then I was thinking you could lean back against the tiles and spread your legs, right? And then I could fit right in there and we could grind up and down a little. Or we could reverse cowgirl and I could lay back and you could grind on me....and that’s pretty much all I got.”

“That’s an impressive list.”

“I know,” Adrien preens, wriggling beneath her like an excitable puppy, “I’m like, kind of a big deal when it comes to thinking.”

“I can see that,” Marinette tips her head back only to see her almost-fiancé grinning like a loon, “You’re such a smart boy.”

She can practically see his pupils dilate, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she rolls over onto her front, her breasts pressing up against his belly button, “You’re always coming up with wonderful ideas. I love that about you.”

“You do?”

“I do. And do you know what I love about you even more?”

Adrien nods hard enough to jostle the bathwater.

“I love the way you’re able to use that big brain of yours and make your ideas come to life,” she wraps her arms around his torso and leans into him, “The way you’ve been handling yourself lately. I’m very impressed.”

“Thank you,” he says, his voice catching a little in his throat. He doesn’t know why this always does it for him but the proof is in the pudding, as they say, “I’m...I’ve been trying.”

“I know,” Marinette reaches down and grazes her hand along the the evidence of her praise, “But I have to admit, I’ve come up with an even better idea about how to have bath sex.”

Adrien gulps, “You have?”

“I have,” she nods, leaving his rapidly hardening cock and bracing herself on the edges of the tub. She pushes herself to her feet and steps out of the bath, bubbles clinging to her bare skin as she quickly pads towards the standalone shower. She reaches inside and grabs the little pink machine he’s become very familiar with over the past week, holding it victoriously above her head, “I want to use this on you.”

His mouth falls open and nothing particularly coherent comes out.

“You took care of me,” she explains, slipping back into the Marinette shaped hole between his thighs, “So now it’s time I care for you.”

“But you’re the one who’s—” Adrien’s voice cracks as she turns the bullet vibrator on, “—who’s been stressed out.”

Marinette smirks and drops her hand below the bubbles, “And I feel much better now, thanks to you.”

“But— _ oh god _ ,” Adrien’s thighs clench as she presses the vibrator to the base of his cock. His fingers hook around the edges of the porcelain tub and he throws his head back, drawing his knees up to his chest,  _ “Please…” _

Marinette traps the vibrator in the cleft between her thumb and forefinger and uses the slickness of the soapy water to grasp him and move her hand up and down his length simultaneously. The effect it has on him is nearly blinding as he throws his head back with a clunk.

“How does that feel?” Marinette asks, using her other hand to turn the vibrator up to the next intensity. Adrien makes another entirely incomprehensible sound as his pleasure increases exponentially, “I’m going to take that as a good thing.”

He hardly has half a mind to begin with and he doesn’t bother trying to answer as Marinette increases the pressure and tempo of her exquisite torture. The sensation itself is borderline uncomfortable but it’s paralyzingly satisfying at the same time and Adrien doesn’t know what to think as Marinette turns it up once again.

“I really have to try this thing out on myself,” Marinette murmurs, watching in awe as her fiancé squirms and moans beneath her touch. He’s so overwhelmed he can’t even look at her, his eyes clenched closed as his muscles twitch and spasm. He looks like he’s on the brink, his cheeks flushed as he gasps and holds his breath, his entire body seizing.

_ “Fuck!” _ he swears and he immediately bucks away from her, the vibration too much to handle as his orgasm takes him down like a bolt of lightning. She relents and turns the vibrator off as he kicks his legs out and she sets it aside for the moment, pressing her body up against his chest while he slumps bonelessly against the edge. She holds him through it as he comes down, murmuring soft words of praise at the mush of a man in her arms.

“I haven’t seen you do that in a while,” she mentions offhand as he comes back to his senses. He watches her blearily and runs his fingers up and down her spine, paying special attention to the cleft of her ass.

“It’s good,” he states rather astutely, using his eyes to point at the little pink object that just ravaged him senseless, “Let’s get more.”

Marinette raises a brow, “You want to buy another vibrator?”

“Yeah,” Adrien responds, his entire body still buzzing from his orgasm, “There’s lots.”

“Maybe when you’re coherent, you can explain them to me,” Marinette snickers, always amused by Adrien’s lack of articulation when he’s experienced an incredible high.

“M’kay,” he says, simple because he’s unable to say much else.

~

Quiet falls over their lives for the next few days. The crisis with Lila is averted for the moment; she hasn’t made any physical appearances since her interview on TVi and the media busies itself by creating lavish theories about where she’s gone. Monarchesa doesn’t appear either, although Paris is still abuzz about that. With a new villain hoping to wreak havoc on their city, the people of Paris are both curious and frightened about what the future will bring.

After that evening together in the bathtub, Marinette seems to be dealing with her stress a little better. Adrien texts Docteur Renée to thank her for the advice and to let her know it worked and receives a thumbs up emoji in response. In hindsight, Adrien will smack himself in the forehead at the strangely short text, having been used to long, wordy responses from his therapist. In the meantime though, he’ll think nothing of it and go back to his daily life, planning and preparing for the Easter Gala for the Agreste Foundation.

Adrien mentions the vacation to Saint Tropez on Chloé’s yacht a little later on in the week and Marinette doesn’t argue with him, which is another oddity in his already strange life. He rolls with it and brings it up from time to time again, mentioning the hot tub and the brilliant sunsets of the Mediterranean. Marinette agrees with him but seems distracted, tossing a bowl of salad greens with her fingers. He squints as he tries to remember the last time he went to pick up veggies and realizes that it’s been over a week ago.

“I’m surprised those are still good,” he says, pointing to the spinach and arugula.

“I just ran them under cold water and gave them a spin,” Marinette responds, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear, “By the way, where did you get those roses?”

She points towards the bouquet he’d bought for her the night he’d come home after his therapy sessions and soaked in bubbles for hours, “Same guy I always do. Why?”

“I’ve never seen roses stay this fresh for so long,” Marinette walks over and bends down, lightly holding one of the blossoms to her nose. She inhales and Adrien has to blink several times to try and comprehend what just took place before his eyes. 

“Hey, Bug?”

Marinette’s expression grows curious at the strangeness of his tone, “Yes?”

“Um…” Adrien trails off. He’s semi-convinced his eyes are playing tricks on him and considers just dropping the subject altogether; there’s no way the stem of the blossom she’s holding spontaneously sprouted another leaf.

“Adrien? What’s wrong?”

Adrien scrubs his eyes and waits until the stars disappear, “Nothing. I...it was definitely nothing.”

“It was definitely something,” Marinette leaves the bouquet behind and carefully pads towards him, mulling over his owl eyed expression, “You’re staring at my roses like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...might have,” Adrien thinks about that necromancer anime he watched on Crunchyroll a few years back and shakes his head. He’s hallucinating —  _ clearly _ —and he probably just needs a drink of water to clear his head, “Or I’m just seeing things.”

Marinette laughs nervously, “This apartment better not be haunted.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Adrien scoops her into a hug before she can comment any further, “Anyway, have you decided on what you’re going to wear to the Easter gala?”

“I can’t believe that it’s less than two weeks away,” Marinette presses her cheek to his chest and toys with the buttons of his dress shirt, “March just kind of flew by.”

“It did, didn’t it,” Adrien concurs, tracing absent patterns at the base of her spine, “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Right. Well, I was thinking about that green one I made for the New Year’s party but didn’t end up wearing. Remember that one?”

“Is that the one with the slit up the side?”

Marinette snickers, “Of course the only thing you remember about it is the slit.”

“The slit was sexy,” Adrien’s voice rumbles in his chest, “I was kind of disappointed you went with the pink one, honestly.”

“The green clashed with Chloé’s outfit and she refused to let me wear it,” Marinette shakes her head, “This time, I don’t give a crap what shade of yellow she’s wearing, she can stuff it.”

Adrien’s bark of laughter fills their galley kitchen, “She knows how pissed off you were, trust me. That’s why she sent that bottle of Dom Perignon champagne up to the hotel room after.”

“That was her? I thought it was from André.”

“That’s what she led you to believe,” Adrien rolls his eyes fondly, “Anyway, she’s wearing ivory this time, just so you know. She already sent over my matching bowtie.”

“I thought I saw a new one added to your collection,” Marinette hums, “ I don’t know what it is, but I prefer the look of a traditional tie.”

“White tie events call for white bowties,” he shrugs, silently disagreeing; he loves wearing bow ties, mostly because they remind him of his bell, “Black tux, white bowtie and a mean, green fighting machine of a fiancée at my side? I think that makes for a pretty nice colour palette, wouldn’t you say?”

“Sure thing, model boy,” Marinette gently extricates herself from his embrace and winks, “Strike a pose and pass me the salad bowl from the top shelf, will you?”

“As M’Lady commands,” Adrien responds, bowing before fetching the aforementioned bowl for her. She dumps the arugula and spinach in and reaches for the cutting board, tipping in a handful of thinly sliced red onions and halved cherry tomatoes. He tosses the salad with a pair of tongs as she drizzles olive oil and balsamic vinegar over the greens, finishing them with a sprinkle of Maldon salt and freshly ground pepper.

“Could you grab the chèvre in the fridge for me? Plagg’s order came in this afternoon and I picked some other cheeses up on the way home.”

“No wonder he loves you more,” Adrien finds the cylinder of goat’s cheese beside the tub of crème fraiche and tosses it across the kitchen. Without looking, she catches it behind her back and Adrien groans in defeat.

“I saw that coming a mile away,” she says over her shoulder, “If you really wanted to trick me, you’d try harder.”

Adrien pouts, “Is that a challenge?”

“It is,” Marinette slowly drags the chef’s knife from the rack and holds it aloft with a smirk, “One I don’t think you can manage.”

“Excuse me?” Adrien’s eyes narrow, “Let’s have a moment of silence for how badly I’m going to wreck you next time your guard is down.”

“You should probably call your therapist and tell her you’re suffering from delusions,” Marinette tosses a lemon into the air and slashes her knife, cutting the citrus cleanly in two.

Adrien gulps, “...that’s a cool party trick.”

“It is, isn’t it?” she twirls the handle of the knife between her fingers, “I’ve been practicing my skills.”

“You’ve been watching too much Masterchef.”

“I  _ still _ can’t believe Omar went home last week,” Marinette plunks the tip of the knife into the wooden cutting board, “Philipe’s croque monsieur looked disgusting.”

“His plating wasn’t exactly a  _ ham _ dunk,” Adrien tries to say with a straight face, only to crack up when Marinette groans, “Come on, that was a good one.”

“You need to go visit Papa for a few hours and get all of your puns out where I can’t hear them,” she turns back around and crumbles the chèvre over the salad, “Speaking of which, isn’t there a football game tomorrow night?”

“There is,” Adrien peeks into the oven and uses his nose to try and figure out what’s cooking underneath the aluminium foil, “And I figured it would be alright since you have the deadline for the fall designs tomorrow.”

“You know you don’t have to ask me for permission to go hang out with Papa, right?” Marinette sets the tossed salad onto the table and begins doling it out into two smaller bowls, “You can take the food out of the oven, by the way. The chicken should be cooked by now.”

“Ooooo,” Adrien slips his hands into the oven mittens and grabs the baking dish’s handles, “Is this one with the chicken and the apples and the bacon you made last month?”

“I remember you saying that you loved it,” Marinette smiles as he sets the stoneware dish onto the hob, “So I thought I’d make it for you again.”

“Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Only each and every d—”

Static suddenly overcomes their kitchen, each and every device connected to a network in Paris crackling to life. 

_ “Come out, come out wherever you are, Ladybug!” _   


Marinette freezes, her eyes scanning the corners of the room. Adrien fishes his mobile from his back pocket and waves her over, showing her the feed that has completely hacked his iPhone.

_ “Would you like to play a little game with me?” _ Monarchesa bares her teeth for the camera,  _ “I’m dying for a rematch.” _

“So much for dinner,” Marinette grumbles under her breath.

_ “I’ll be waiting for you by the Louvre. And this time, you won’t get away so easily.” _

The feed cuts abruptly and Adrien holds his breath, “I’ll call Chloé. She can meet us there.”

“Good thing I didn’t take back her Miraculous after all,” Marinette unties her apron and sets it on the counter, “Grab some extra cheese too. I have a box of macarons all ready.”

Adrien nods, “Should we bring the power-ups?”

“Definitely,” Marinette responds, slinging her purse over her shoulder, “Yours are in the fridge by the mustard.”

“Got it,” Adrien plucks the box from the back corner, “Anything else?”

“I’m going to bring Sass along too,” Marinette heads into the living room, “We can use Second Chance to gain more insight into Monarchesa and her powers. Do you want to merge or should I?”

“I will,” Adrien shoves the cheese into his shoulder bag, “You need to focus on getting her to talk.”

“Good idea. And we need to figure out how she’s getting her powers,” Marinette opens a drawer and reaches inside, tapping four or five times against the wood. Within moments, a floorboard loosens on the other side of the room with a pop, “The box is in there. Grab the Mouse Miraculous as well. I don’t want to be caught off guard like last time.”

Adrien lifts the Miraculous Box from the secret compartment and quickly pulls both additional pieces of jewelry from the little drawers. He slaps the bracelet around his wrist and briefly greets Sass before tossing the mouse necklace over to Marinette, who catches it easily.

“I’m not using it this time,” Marinette responds, handing it back to Adrien. With a flourish, she transforms into Ladybug, “One Chloé is enough of a pain in the ass to handle...so let’s see what happens when there’s twenty of her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So begins the next big arc.......and it will have a twist none of you see coming! What horrible, wonderful ideas do you think I have planned for my poor characters?
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	12. I Always Win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the story goes...

“By the way, are you wearing perfume today? Because you smell deli—”

Ladybug smacks Serpent Noir in the chest with the back of her hand, “Shh! I need to focus!”

“Hey!” Serpent Noir whines just as Queen Souris rounds the corner to their hiding spot.

“She’s here!”

Ladybug takes a deep breath, “Okay. Here’s the plan. Chat, you stay behind those columns while I talk to her. Use my lucky charm to count how many times you’ve rewinded time and try and show me the number from behind the pillar when she’s not looking so I know to go through my list of questions.”

Serpent Noir tucks his Ladybug themed number flashcards underneath his arm, “You still remember all your questions?”

“I’ve got thirty memorized and enough imagination to think of more of them if I need to,” Ladybug taps her temple, “As much as Monarchesa loves to talk about herself, she’s itching for a fight so I don’t think she’ll talk long. That’s why we need to keep resetting time and you need to keep track of every little detail she spills. If she says something that reveals her identity and you’re completely confident in your decision, I want you to interfere. Use your powers to get us away from her as fast as you can so we regroup with a new plan.”

“I’m on it,” Serpent Noir presses a quick kiss to Ladybug's temple before calling on _Trou Noir_ and disappearing through the black abyss that appears at his feet.

Ladybug turns to Queen Souris, “Now, your job is to approach her while I interrogate her. If we’re right and Monarchesa is using people she’s akumatized to power her from a distance, we need to see where she’s keeping them. I want you to shrink by making multiples of yourself and see if you can hide one of your copies in her pocket.”

“Gross,” Queen Souris’s upper lip curls in distaste, “Why do I always have to do the boring jobs?”

“Your job is probably the most important,” Ladybug responds, keeping an eye on Serpent Noir as he gives her a thumbs up behind a pillar on the opposite end of the Louvre’s expansive courtyard, “She can’t fight me hand-to-hand and she knows that. I’m too powerful and the only way she can stand a chance is by using her akumatized victims to power her up. Once she realizes that I’m not here to capture her, she’s going to have to regroup and when she does, we need to know where she goes and what she says to the people she’s brainwashed.”

“But—”

“What’s even more important is that you don’t blow your cover,” Ladybug interrupts her, “If Chat finds out something important and we leave, you need to stay on her. Don’t let her escape. Once we figure things out — that is, _if_ we figure things out — we’ll be able to track your location through your Miraculous and ambush her.”

“And what if you don’t?”

“If Chat comes up short and we start fighting, I want you to try and multiply yourself as much as you can to distract her until I can rip that Miraculous off her chest once and for all. Got it?”

Queen Souris is about to retort when Ladybug leaps out from their hiding place, “I’m here, Monarchesa! Just as you asked!”

“I was wondering if you were ever going to show up,” the villainess responds, hovering above the inverted glass pyramid on a throne made of purple clouds, “You might be a clout chaser but I never took you as a coward.”

“I had to put dinner away first. Some things take priority.”

Monarchesa bares her teeth, “I thought Paris was your number one priority.”

“It is,” Ladybug barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes, “What do you want, Monarchesa? Are you back for seconds?”

“I’m going to kill you in a second.”

“Be my guest!” Ladybug cracks her knuckles, “Let’s see how long you last against me.”

“It’ll be a lot longer than you think,” Monarchesa tips her head to the side, her gaze predatorial, “Now that I figured out your secret.”

Ladybug hesitates just long enough for the villainess to gain the upperhand, “That’s right, Ladybug. I know exactly what’s going on. And I’m going to take full advantage of it.”

In her periphery, Chat waves a flashcard with a big, red eight printed on it from behind his pillar.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ladybug turns her attention back to Monarchesa and asks her the ninth question, “But enough about me. I want to know why you’re using innocent people to give you powers.”

Ladybug had hoped that asking Monarchesa to talk about herself would help her change the subject and she’s almost embarrassed by how quickly the villainess makes it all about her again, “They’re my loyal little subjects.”

“Subjects?”

“They call me their Queen,” Monarchesa throws her head back and laughs, “Soon, the whole world will be calling me their Queen, actually. All I need to say are the magic words.”

“You know, people are a lot smarter than you give them credit for,” Ladybug steps closer, “And it’s not like you can keep this up forever. People are eventually going to see through your disguise.”

“You’d be surprised,” Monarchesa checks her magical manicure unperturbed, “It’s not like you and your little pet have figured out who I am.”

“You keep saying that you’ve given me all these hints but clearly, you’re not important enough for me to know you,” Ladybug snarks back, her belly twisting at Monarchesa’s rageful expression. 

“Excuse me?!” she hisses, spit flying from her lips, “I am VERY important! I’m the most important person in the entire fucking world!”

A flashcard with a twenty-three on it stands out against the marble pillar and Ladybug realizes that she has to handle this next question very carefully, “How? Help me see just how important you are.”

“I shouldn’t have to!” Monarchesa leaps off her throne of clouds and lands in a crouch in front of her, “I’m EVERYWHERE! I’m on every screen! I’m on every vision board! EVERYONE wants to be like me!”

“Why? Because you manipulate people? Is that what you do for a living? Because I’m honestly confused.”

Monarchesa sneers, “People can’t resist me when I tell them exactly what they want to hear.”

“And what’s that?"

“I can give them whatever they want,” the villainess responds with a fond chuckle, “Fame. Power. Looks. Guys. I can give them anything as long as they give me their loyalty in return.”

“Except you give them nothing in return.”

“Ah ah ah,” Monarchesa wags a finger, “You still don’t know who I am behind the mask. Gifts and offers make a world of difference when it comes to taking over the world. What Gabriel Agreste never realized is that taking advantage of people when they’re down never works out for you in the end. It’s about getting people on your side, not alienating them. And I’ve slowly but surely built an empire of idiots who rely on me to dictate their lives.”

Ladybug tries not to pinch the bridge of her nose; quite frankly, she’d rather do the laundry than listen to Monarchesa grandstand about how great she is but it’s her job is to get psycho to talk, after all, “You’re still a manipulator, just like Gabriel.”

“Hardly. That pathetic excuse for a villain had no vision whatsoever. But I do. I’ve spent a lot of time imagining your downfall. I’ve played out a million different scenarios. Sometimes I kill you, sometimes I kill your little sidekick. But I always win,” Monarchesa leans towards Ladybug, her eyes glowing a sickly violet hue, “I _always_ win.”

“If you say so,” Ladybug responds, clearly unconvinced, “I think you’ve spent a little too much time hiding in your fantasy world, Monarchesa. The heroes always win, not the villains.”

“Do they?” Morachessa throws her head back and laughs, “Do they really? And if that’s the case, why do we have all these news headlines saying the opposite?”

“What do you—”

“Look around you, Ladybug!” she cackles, throwing her arms out wide, “There’s chaos everywhere! Protests, violence, crooked politicians making themselves rich! At least what I’m doing is for the benefit of the people!”

“You have some nerve lecturing me about being a good person,” Ladybug gnashes her teeth, “You’re nothing but a self-serving—”

“I never said I was a good person,” Monarchesa interrupts, “I said that what I’m doing is actually beneficial. I’m helping people.”

“No, you’re not. You’re holding all of Paris hostage, and for what? A grudge?”

“Paris deserves to get rid of you! You’re the one that caused this in the first place!”

“Your actions are _not_ my fault!” Ladybug yells, “Stop projecting your own insecurities on me.”

“Insecurities? Hah! I’m not the one who’s insecure!”

“And neither am I!”

“Oh yes you are,” Monarchesa’s cane appears out of the blue, “You won’t even tell Paris the truth!”

“The truth about Nooroo?” Ladybug rolls her eyes, “First of all, I can’t just go around announcing to the world every secret of the Miraculous, and two, he left on his own. You know that, he knows that, we all know that.”

“That’s not the truth I’m talking about,” Monarchesa sing-songs, pointing her cane at Ladybug’s abdomen, “You really think you could just sprout a pair of wings halfway through a battle and _not_ arouse suspicion? Didn’t you think I’d ask Nooroo why you’re suddenly extra super-powered?”

Ladybug blinks, “That’s none of your business.”

“I make everything about you my business. You’ve been hiding something, so I did a little digging and—what do you know! It makes perfect sense! So tell me, is it a girl? Or a boy?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ladybug responds truthfully, eyebrows furrowing at the crazed gleam in her adversary’s eyes, “You need serious help, Monarchesa. Just give up your Miraculous and I can help you—”

“Alright ladies, I think that’s enough chit chat for one day,” Chat darts into the pavilion and somersaults over Monarchesa, “Ladybug, we have to talk.”

Snatching her by the wrist, Chat calls on _Trou Noir_ and leaps inside, dragging his partner into the space rift just before a blast of violet power singed off their hair. They hear Monarchesa’s screams of fury stop abruptly as they float weightlessly through the vacuum of the universe before emerging inside Chloé’s living room in Le Grand Paris.

“Chat...?” Ladybug’s voice trails off as her masked almost-fiancé turns to her, his face drained of colour.

“It’s Lila. Monarchesa is Lila Rossi.”

**_“...WHAT?!”_ **

“I know, it seems insane,” Chat plants his hands on her shoulders and squeezes, “But the evidence...you did everything right, Bug. You got her to sing like a canary and I figured it out. _We_ figured it out.”

“Then...then that’s good!” Ladybug reasons, inhaling deeply through the surge of adrenaline, “Now that we know who she is, we can reveal her to the world! We can defeat her and take her Miraculous!”

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Chat’s eyes search her entirely before stopping at her waist, “There’s something else. Something she mentioned that I...”

Ladybug cups his cheek in her palm and guides his gaze back to hers, “...what’s wrong?”

“Earlier in the timeline, Lila explained why Tikki gave you wings.”

“Tikki didn’t give me wings,” Ladybug counters, shaking her head, “They were a Lucky Charm I somehow summoned in the middle of that battle. She said so herself, you were there.”

Chat cringes, “I remember but...I don’t think Tikki was being completely honest.”

“Are you taking Lila’s word over Tikki’s now?

“No, no, it’s not like that,” Chat drops his arms and sighs, “Monarchesa, Lila—whatever you want to call her— said that sometimes our powers can change if something is happening to us...physically.”

Ladybug blinks, “How would she even know that?”

“She’s Nooroo’s wielder. He probably told her everything.”

“Everything but our names…” Ladybug purses her lips.

“He couldn’t for the same reason Plagg couldn’t tell me your name. They can’t.”

“But still. How would she know about the physical changes for sure? She can’t have been with Nooroo long enough for her to feel the effects of a Miraculous.”

“They’ve been together for almost three years, apparently,” Chat responds with a grimace, “Like I said, she admitted to everything she knows. But back to what I was saying—”

“Three years?! That means—she probably found Nooroo almost right after he took over Paris!”

“And they’ve been together ever since...well, no wonder she’s so famous. She can akumatize anyone to get what she wants.”

“I hate her so much,” Ladybug balls her hands into fists, “Come on, we need to go and settle this once and for all.”

“No!” Chat reaches out to stop her, “I have to explain—”

“Whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait,” Ladybug flicks the lid of her yoyo with the edge of her thumb and finds Chloé’s tracker immediately, “Monarchesa’s heading south and moving fast. If we follow her, we might be able to find her group of—wait, oh my god, that makes complete sense! Lila’s using her Instagram followers as akumas and promising them fame in return for their cooperation!”

“Ladybug—”

“She’s been holding contests on social media since she came to Paris! ‘Win a shopping spree with Lila Rossi’, ‘Every €20 donation gives you one ballot to win a date with Lila’. I’ve been seeing her advertisements all over Instagram!”

“Bug—”

“She must be bringing them somewhere and then—does she tell them she’s Monarchesa? Or does she just get them all in one big room and surprise attack them? These people don’t deserve this! They think they’re going to be spending the day with a celebrity and then all of the sudden, they’re being used as pawns? They don’t even get to keep their memories! How does she keep them loyal to her? What does she bribe them with?”

“Marinette—”

“What she’s doing is disgusting and manipulative and I can’t stand it! She needs to be stopped! She’s what’s wrong with this world and it’s my job to make sure that people like her never get to see the light of day again! All we need to do is unmask her in front of other people and we’ll have the video evidence to prove it’s her! And then we can get her victims to testify once she’s arrested and then she can go to jail and rot just like Gabriel for the rest of her pitiful li—”

**“MARINETTE!”**

Chat’s voice echoes through the hotel suite, blowing the electrical fuse on the chandelier above their heads. Amid the sparks raining down from the ceiling, Ladybug’s voice dies in her throat; Chat’s eyes gleam in the shadows, the acidic green roiling with electric energy that has her hairs standing on edge.

“...yes?”

“You’re not going to fight her.”

_“What?!”_

“She’s too dangerous and you’re not...we need to figure something out first.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up,” Ladybug raises her palms, “We just found out that Monarchesa is Lila Rossi and you want to _stop?”_

“Yes.”

“I—” Ladybug gapes at him, “Are you insane?!”

“If you would hear me out for half a second,” Chat seems to have second thoughts and takes a step back, calling off his transformation, “Plagg, was she right?”

Plagg looks like he’d rather be thrown into magma than have this conversation, “Was _who_ right?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Adrien snags his kwami with the lightning fast reflexes of his namesake and holds Plagg in front of his face, “Was. She. Right?”

“Ehhhhhh....” Plagg makes the world’s worst attempt at a smile and burps out a bubble, “ _Well...”_

Adrien’s brain stutters to a grinding halt and it’s as if the very impact of the kwami’s non-confession knocks the air from his lungs. “Holy shit…” he says as he takes a step forward, his lips parted as he struggles to inhale. Ladybug searches his face and catches him as his knees fold beneath him, collapsing like an ungainly marionette against one of Chloé’s many settees. His fingers tap rhythmically, spasming with every beat of his heart as blood rushes in his ears, deafening him to Ladybug’s voice as she questions him.

He doesn’t hear what she says. It doesn’t really matter.

“Marinette…” Adrien takes her hands in his and gazes at her, tears of both fear and joy welling in his eyes, “I think you might be pregnant.”

~

Queen Souris is about _this_ close to calling it quits from inside Monarchesa’s pocket when the megalomaniac finally stops screaming long enough to catch her breath.

“Where does that bitch get _off_ running away from me?!”

“Here she goes again,” Queen Souris rolls her eyes and holds onto the magical fabric for dear life as the villainess continues pounding the tile floor with her epic tantrum. Cracks skitter up the walls as her hoard of akumatized victims try to console her. The one closest to her gets a backhand to the face for his efforts and even Queen Souris has to flinch.

“You’ve all failed me!” Monarchesa shrieks, pointing a finger at the cowering group, “Think of a plan _right now_ or I will make sure you never see the light of fame ever again!”

Backhand Boy peels himself off the floor, “We’re trying, my Queen, but we need your guidance. Please tell us what to do.”

“My Queen?” Queen Souris scoffs; that’s her role, thank you very much!

“Useless! All of you!” Monarchesa screeches and Queen Souris is jostled around once more. She briefly closes her eyes to see out of the eyes of her other clones and finds them all huddled in various hiding holes around the Shangri-La hotel conference room Monarchesa has claimed for herself, “Mathis! Come here _now_!”

“Yes, my Queen. How may I serve you?”

Queen Souris peeks out from inside the pocket to find a red haired boy folded in half on his knees in front of her.

“Freeze the city again! I want the whole of Paris to know I’m back no matter where they are.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

“Océane! Make this rain stop! It wasn’t supposed to downpour today and I am _not_ going to be wet for my victory selfie.”

“Right away, my Queen.”

“Léah! Use your powers to hack everyone’s phone again. I want every media outlet in Paris to know that I’m about to squash this insect once and for all!”

“Yes, my Queen. Doing it now.”

“Camille, Inès, Sarah. Give me your powers. And Maxime! Where are my wings?”

“I’m trying, my Queen.”

“Good. Now, the rest of you, listen closely. If you screw up even the tiniest bit, I will ruin your social lives forever. You will be nothing but a speck of dust underneath my Louboutins, understood? I am not losing again because you _idiots_ can’t get your shit together.”

“We obey, my Queen.”

“Of course you do. You’d be nothing without me,” Monarchesa says and Queen Souris sees this as the best opportunity she’s going to get to urge a couple of her clones in through the air ducts. She’ll leave four or five of them here to keep an eye on Monarchesa’s group of akumas while keeping another few posted outside.

Monarchesa’s body disappears under a cloud of black and violet bubbles and emerges with a pair of butterfly wings tethered to her back. She hovers, testing them out, before disappearing through the skylight with one final warning to her akumas below.

Queen Souris, unaffected by the transformation but disgusted nonetheless, sends the finished voice recording to Alec Cataldi and holds on for dear life as she’s vaulted into the clouds.

~

“So let me get this straight,” Rachelle Renée grumbles to the kwami of emotion currently hovering in front of her. She was just about to leave her office for the day when a sudden deluge of rain began pouring from the skies, “You want to try and sneak into the medical facility where Émilie is being held _without_ me there? You’ll forget what you’re supposed to be doing in two seconds and get caught!”

“I need to find Mme Émilie,” Duusu rustles her feathers matter-of-factly, “But your brother can’t know.”

“Except the only way I’m getting you in there in the first place is if I tell Robert why I’m coming. He’s not just going to let me waltz into a secure facility without an explanation.”

Duusu sandwiches her cheeks between her paws for a moment before coming back to herself, “That’s ok. I’ll be sneaky!”

“No,” Rachelle shakes her head, “It’s not happening. I’m telling Robert and we’re doing this the easy way.”

“Nuh-uh. No boys allowed!”

“What is with you and my brother? You’ve only ever seen him through a screen, you can’t judge him based on one phone call.”

“I don’t know him, but I’m the kwami of emotions. I can sense his bad juju.”

“Juju?”

Duusu sticks out her tongue and gags, “The bad kind.”

“But he’s my brother.”

“So?”

“I’m not lying to my brother.”

“But you’re lying _for_ your brother.”

“Not the same thing.”

“But he isn’t you!”

Rachelle rubs her temples, “Do you always talk in circles?”

“I talk in my mouth. I have a tongue,” she says, opening her tiny jaw, “An’ thas how I mae the soun.”

“Right,” Rachelle takes a weary breath and exhales, “What I wouldn’t give for a vacation right now...”

Duusu thankfully isn’t listening, “If I can see what’s wrong with Mme Émilie, then I can find the other kwamis and start a plan.”

“There are more kwamis?”

“Of course there are, silly! There’s hundreds!”

_“Hundreds?!”_

“Don’t tell your brother,” she wags her paw, “But yes. A lot. I think. At least, there used to be.”

“...there used to be?”

“It’s been a while since I…” Duusu blinks several times in succession, “Ooooooooh. Can you feel that?”

“Feel what?”

“The Butterfly Miraculous!” Duusu rubs her palms together, “Nooroo and his wielder...oh, what emotion!”

“You can sense Monarchesa?”

“She’s so angry! How fun!” Duusu’s tail feather’s crackle with sparks of cobalt and crimson, “She’s going craaaaazy!”

“Why are you happy about this?” Rachelle reels back and peers out of the window on the door that leads from the staircase to the street, “Did you not see what she did to Paris and Ladybug last time?”

“Strong emotions are so yummy though,” Duusu nuzzles her wielder's cheek fondly, “Love, hate, greed, joy...it’s so addictive!”

“Well, I’m not going to just sit around and watch Ladybug almost get killed again while you...do whatever it is you’re doing,” Rachelle murmurs, remembering the news feed of that last fight in vivid detail. She’s far too invested in both Marinette and Adrien’s life to let it all go to hell in an instant, “Could we help them?” 

“Ooooooh no. No no no,” the kwami of emotions titters, diving underneath her scarf, “No more sentimonsters. Or sentiheroes. Or sentianythings. If I transform, you’ll get sick too!”

The sky freezes once more outside the window, bathing the street outside in violet light as Monachesa’s second reign of terror takes hold of Paris, and the rain that had been pelting against the windows freezes with it.

“What if I didn’t make any senti...things, or whatever you call them?” Rachelle murmurs back, careful to keep her voice low and concealed as citizens begin tearing down the sidewalks to get away from the fight, “Can’t you do other stuff?”

“Weeeeelllll,” Duusu burps and giggles as baby blue bubbles float up past Rachelle’s ear, “I have a lot of talents...mostly. Maybe. I think I do.”

“You think?” Rachelle sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, “Or you know?”

“I think I know that I think I know,” Duusu nods sagely and Rachelle barely keeps herself from groaning, “But I know that I think I know how I can help you run and jump and kick butt!”

“Which is the kind of help Adrien could probably use right now,” Rachelle mutters under her breath, “Alright, we’re getting out of here.”

Pushing open the door, Rachelle sprints eastward and ducks into the nearest alleyway. Her heart pounds as she checks over her shoulder, looking for anyone with prying eyes who may be wondering what she’s up to. She comes up empty and takes a deep breath before fishing Duusu out of the folds of her scarf, eager to get this over with.

“What’s the magic word?”

Now consumed with squishing her cheeks together again, Duusu blinks at the sudden change in perspective, _“Twansfomme moah!”_

Rachelle stares at a dumpster as if it’s the camera man from The Office, “Can you say that again, but properly this time?”

Duusu, for all her quirks and general affiliation with all things alcoholic, seems to actually grasp the reality of the situation, “Are you sure? It could be dangerous.”

“It’s the least I can do after lying to him for so long,” Rachelle admits, “Call it penance for when I inevitably get caught and ruin everything.”

Duusu shrugs, “Can we stop for a bottle of Syrah afterwards?”

“Sure.”

“Okay!” Duusu cries, completely ignorant to Rachelle’s deadpan stare, “All you have to say is…”

“...yes?”

“Uh… Oh! I remember now, mostly. Anyway, the magic words are...are you ready?”

“Please Duusu. Just tell me.”

_“Transforme-moi!”_

“That’s it?” Rachelle inhales deeply and shakes out her shoulders, “Well, here goes nothing.” 

_“Duusu, transforme-moi!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will this lead up the end of Lila Rossi? And is Marinette really pregnant? Or have I been throwing red herrings at you as if you're a particularly persistent sea chicken? Who knows? Most of the time, I don't even know what I'm doing either. Head empty, no thoughts.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	13. [ + ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! This is the chapter when I finally address the pregnancy storyline. Have I been tugging you along with red herrings this whole time? Or did I actually knock up the main character?

For one brief, heart stopping moment, the entire world shifts on its axis.

(Outside, a thunderstorm begins.)

“Marinette? You should...you should probably sit down.”

There is absolutely  _ no way _ . 

“Shush,” she shoves her palm in his face, still staring owlishly at a divot in the drywall. This is not the time for interruptions. This is the time for planning. Thinking. Analyzing the situation. She’s Ladybug, which means a lot of things to a lot of different people. To Paris, she’s a hero. To Marinette, she’s a beacon of luck in a very unlucky world. And to Tikki...well, suddenly those stories about the previous Ladybugs birthing six hundred kids are much less amusing.

It’s not possible.

It  _ can’t _ be possible...or at least it  _ shouldn’t _ be possible but Ladybug knows as well as anyone that medications can interact poorly with each other from time to time. Docteur Bellefleur had mentioned that there was a 0.01% chance that her birth control could fail while she switched from her old prescription to the new benzodiazepines she’d started taking for her anxiety. But that chance was infinitesimal! Microscopic! Practically impossible!

Ladybug shuts down that thought process immediately. No. She will  _ not _ go down that road right now, not with a million and one other things to worry about. And even if she were... _ you know _ — which she  _ isn’t _ — she’ll just buy a test from the pharmacy after kicking Lila’s ass to confirm to Adrien that it’s a big, fat no. 

“I’m not showing any symptoms,” she states plainly, as if she actually knows what she’s talking about. Adrien blinks up at her, his expression stricken, and Ladybug really  _ really _ wishes she could wipe it off his face, “And Chloé is still in Lila’s pocket. We can’t just give up because Lila’s making things up to trick you. This is  _ exactly _ the kind of thing she’d do to get the upper hand.”

Adrien’s expression wavers, “She...she sounded pretty convinced.”

“Because it’s  _ Lila _ , Adrien. She’s been manipulating the people all around us our entire lives!” Ladybug massages her temples for a moment, “Look, there’s….there’s just no way.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Ladybug lies through her teeth, “And right now, we have bigger problems to contend with.”

Having never felt more unconvinced in his life, Adrien glances at Plagg and feels the telltale signs of an electric current prickle across his skin. It doesn’t happen very often these days — he’s learned to control his emotions after spending so much of his life untethered — but it seems to be happening more and more where his fiancée is concerned, “I’ll drop it if you promise me something.”

Ladybug squares her shoulders, “What?”

“When we get Chloé back and talk about what happened, I want you to take a pregnancy test. Just to be sure.”

“I can do that,” Ladybug’s voice softens a little as she gazes out the window, “Come on. Let’s go save Chloé before she kills us for leaving her with Lila for so long.”

~

“Well...this is different.”

Rachelle Renée glances at herself in the reflection of an empty storefront and grimaces at the monstrosity staring back at her. She’s as blue as Violet Beauregarde from  _ Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory _ and Rachelle honestly wonders if this is Duusu’s funny idea of revenge for cutting off the Chardonnay last night. It’s downright embarrassing, not to mention unflattering, but at least the outfit is sensible enough. Navy slacks and a matching long sleeved blouse cover her body for the most part; a red belt around her waist brings the whole “ensemble” — if it could even be called that — together, fastening a large feather fan to her hip.

“I look awful,” Rachelle mutters out loud in the hopes that Duusu can hear her, “Is this really the best thing you could come up with? You were partnered with Marie Antoinette, for God’s sake.”

An inaudible current ripples across her shoulders and Rachelle is distracted from her unsightly appearance for the meantime, glancing up towards the sky. Despite her apprehension, the therapist chose to transform and jump headfirst into this situation for a reason and she tests her knees before leaping onto a fire escape, easily clearing four metres. It’s a very strange feeling and Rachelle briefly wonders if astronauts feel like this when they leap from place to place in the International Space Station, light as a cloud.

It doesn’t take Rachelle long to find her. Using her ability to sense strong emotions, she quickly finds a winged Monarchesa harassing tourists by the Seine and...posing for photos on a rooftop? The transformed therapist pretty much has her personality pegged within an instant — this is a textbook narcissist, through and through.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Rachelle steps out from behind a chimney and waves at her adversary. Startled, Monarchesa spins around and snarls, her cane raised and eager for a fight.

“Who the  _ fuck _ are you?”

Rachelle glances down at herself for a moment and shrugs, “Good question.”

Monarchesa’s eyes narrow, “Well?”

“You could call me La Paonne, I suppose. I’m not picky.”

Monarchesa crosses her arms across her chest impatiently, “What are you doing here?”

“Another good question, but not the right one.”

“...what?”   


La Paonne takes a few steps to the right, passively corralling the supervillain. She’s been psychoanalyzing people for decades now — she knows the drill, “Have you ever taken a personality test? You know the ones, Myers-Briggs, those silly quizzes on Buzzfeed…”

“Obviously.”

“Then you know the right question to ask.”

Confused, Morachesa simply growls, “You’re wearing the lost peacock miraculous, aren’t you?”

“Still not the right question, but you’re on the right track.”

“I don’t care about your stupid questions! I want to know why you’re here!”

“For the same reason you are, I suppose,” La Paonne shrugs and glances up at the sky, “At least it stopped raining.”

“I doubt you’re here to do what I’m planning to do,” Monarchesa responds, falling into La Paonne’s trap; pretend to care about something else for half a second and a narcissist will immediately draw your attention back to them, “I’m here to kill Ladybug and take back what’s rightfully mine.”

“Oh really?” La Paonne feigns interest, “Ladybug must have done something pretty serious to humiliate you.”

Monarchesa flicks her hair over her shoulder, “Ladybug’s been trying to ruin my life since day one. She deserves to pay for it.”

“Hmm,” La Paonne taps her chin, “I don’t suppose you’ve ever asked her why she hates you?”

“As if. Ladybug thinks she’s better than everyone else but I know her better than anyone. She’s just a power hungry bitch who gets off on being the ‘hero of Paris’.”

“So she hates you because she’s power hungry? Or because she’s a bitch?” La Paonne unfurls the fan at her hip and waves it experimentally, “Help me understand what you mean.”

As expected, Monarchesa goes off like a chemical reaction and La Paonne listens closely as the supervillain twists and spins the narrative to exonerate herself. It quickly becomes apparent that Monarchesa really and truly sees herself as the hapless victim in all of this; she incriminates Ladybug over and over again with a seemingly itemized list of every perceived slight against her, “...and that’s just what she’s done to me as a civilian! I can’t even begin to tell you what she’s done to me as—”

“—but none of this is  _ your _ fault, right?”

“Of course it isn’t!” Monarchesa spits back, “It’s Ladybug’s fault! She hates me!”

“I can see that,” La Paonne intones, her voice taking on an edge. She’s treated narcissists before, but she’s never dealt with one this preoccupied with being the centre of Ladybug’s attention, “It must really upset you to see Ladybug get all of the credit.”

“She’s a clout chaser. She blasts me all the time to try and become more famous than me!”

The proverbial lightbulb above La Paonne’s head flickers to life, “There are only two people in this world that Ladybug outwardly criticizes in the press and, so far as I’m aware, one of them is permanently locked in solitary confinement.”

Monarchesa pretends to consider her manicure and La Paonne spots the brief flutter of panic shudder over her features before she hides it again. It’s the moment the therapist’s been waiting for and she jumps on it before the supervillain can recover, “Lila Rossi, the famous Italian socialite. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I recently followed you on Instagram.”

It’s a bald faced lie but Lila doesn’t need to know that, “Really? My posts are curated for people who are a lot younger than you are.”

“A friend suggested you,” La Paonne responds, ignoring her blatant insult, “But you’re right, your subject matter isn’t directed at people who have the capacity to consume media critically. I’m afraid I found it all to be a little contrived.”

Monarchesa bristles. “Pardon me?” 

“I mean, the photos themselves look great,” La Paonne explains, corralling the villainess ever so slightly with a small step to the left, “But one of the ironies of image-based social media is that a picture really isn’t worth a thousand words when it’s the same image over and over again. Product placement, a nice background and a smile may pay the bills but it’s certainly not displaying your depth.”

_ “WHAT?!” _

“You’re a smart girl, Lila,” La Paonne raises her palms, “You want to be perceived as a profound intellectual, right? A philanthropist. A beautiful model of both products and beauty. And on the surface, you’re doing a good job of trying to convince people. But...let’s be honest. There’s a reason half of Paris is still siding with Ladybug after your interview.”

By this point, Monarchesa is well and truly livid, “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Instead of using your privilege for good, you’ve been using it to manipulate others and it’s a shame, really, because there are some amazing people and organizations out there who could use someone like you in their lives. Instead, you’ve let your hatred and jealousy of others turn you into...well, this,” La Paonne gestures towards the beet-red villainess, “You’re your own worst enemy, Lila Rossi. You’re a classic narcissist. I haven’t seen a case this deeply rooted in all my years as a psychiatrist.”

La Paonne doesn’t bother listening to Monarchesa’s explosion, focusing instead on the unexpected tingle at the back of her neck. A pair of black ears just beyond the chimney on the opposite street all but confirms that her instincts are correct; she’s been buying time, perhaps inadvertently, for Ladybug and Chat Noir.

“Save your excuses for police, Lila,” La Paonne slowly moves herself out of striking range, preferring to get out of this argument unscathed, “Now that I know your identity, it’s only a matter of time before they arrest you.”

“I’ll kill you before you get the chance!” Monarchesa screeches, lashing out with her cane. La Paonne ducks and narrowly misses getting swiped across the middle, “Don’t be a coward, fight me!”

“I’d be careful with that if I were you,” La Paonne hops onto the neighbouring rooftop and steadies herself against a satellite dish, “One wrong move and you’ll end up just like your predecessor.”

“I’m  _ nothing _ like Gabriel Agreste!”

“I beg to differ,” La Paonne leaps just in time as Monarchesa unleashes her raper and slashes it through the cables, “But, more importantly, murder isn’t something you just get over. It changes you irrevocably and I’d hate for you to destroy your life by taking one.”

“See, the whole guilt trip about killing people is so overrated,” Monarchesa scoffs, “The second I claimed the Butterfly Miraculous was the second I decided to end my biggest problems for good.”

“...and ending your problems means killing people?”

“Out of sight, out of mind!”

“I’m…” La Paonne trails off, utterly speechless, “You know, I think I was wrong about you. I don’t think you’re like Gabriel Agreste. I think you’re _worse_.” La Paonne backflips over Monarchesa’s head and lands just out of reach of her rapier’s tip, “And you’re going to be headed to the same maximum security jail if you don’t give this up now.”

Monarchesa bares her teeth, “It’s you who should be worried since you know my secret identity. And anyone who figures out who I am has to die!”

“I have a feeling I’m not the only one who’s figured it out,” La Paonne grits her teeth and tries to avoid being shish kabobed, hobbling a little too close to the edge of the rooftop, “Ladybug? Chat Noir? I’m a little out of my depth here.”

“No shit,” Chat Noir emerges, his shoulders stiff with emotion. Even Ladybug looks a little apprehensive as she follows him out from behind the chimney stack, her eyes roving back and forth between her partner and Monarchesa, “Don’t go far, La Paonne. We need to have a little talk about your Miraculous.”

“Let’s focus on Lila, shall we?” La Paonne pointedly redirects their focus only to be nearly skewered again. She’s not exactly in the best of shape physically and it shows, magical powers be damned, “Let’s give her a hard time before she has to pose for her prison selfie.”

On any other day, Chat would have laughed, “Drop it, Lila, and no one else has to get hurt.”

“God, you’re all so predictable!” Monarchessa rolls her eyes, “Does your little girlfriend write those lines for you?”

“I really should have known it was you,” Ladybug grumbles, her yoyo revving up at her hip, “Give it up, Lila. This little charade of yours is over.”

Chat bares his teeth, “Queen Souris? Care to make a scene?”

“My pleasure!” comes the sudden and terrifying sound of twenty tiny, furious Chloé Bourgeois clones as they leap into sight and begin their attack. They come at her in a wave, climbing up her legs and pulling out chunks of her hair, clawing and biting into her skin like a horde of mosquitoes with teeth. Monarchesa wails and whips about while Queen Souris quite literally tries to claw Monarchesa’s eyeballs out of her face and Chat knocks her off balance with his baton so Ladybug can wrench the butterfly Miraculous from her lapel.

“That was easy,” Ladybug murmurs, holding the brooch in her palm hesitantly for the first time in three years, “Too easy.”

Queen Souris returns to her regular size as the magical veneer around Lila dissolves, leaving her squirming on her ass and shrieking the kind of foul language that would have made the screenwriters of  _ The Wolf of Wall Street _ blush from the profanity. In the blink of an eye, Queen Souris yanks her spinning top from the belt on her hip and stabs Lila in the neck with it, blissfully silencing her for the five minutes it would take for Chloé’s transformation to run out.

“You have absolutely no idea how good that felt!” Queen Souris leans down and pats Lila’s cheek with all of the tenderness of a wrecking ball, “Oh! Nevermind, I just thought of something that would make me feel even better!”

Ignoring the rustling of fabric from behind them, Chat Noir and Ladybug brace themselves as the butterfly Miraculous pulses violently and reveals the kwami within. “I’ll admit, I thought I’d picked a better adversary.”

“Don’t be too disappointed,” Chat responds, his instincts making his hackles bristle, “Lila Rossi will always put herself first.”

“I suppose,” Nooroo hums, his disposition entirely different from the last time they saw him. Deep indigo and stormy grey, Nooroo thrums with an energy far more powerful than his diminutive nature led them to believe in the past.

“Come home with us,” Ladybug beckons, briefly peering over Chat’s shoulders to see Queen Souris pressing Lila’s frozen thumb to the bottom of her iPhone, “The other kwamis want to see you again.”

“I need to finish what I started,” Nooroo’s expression remains entirely passive, “And I have no intention of returning to a family who doesn’t protect its own kind. There are other kwamis out there, ones who will understand what I’ve been through.”

“Heeeeyyyyy LilaHearts! It’s me, your number one favourite superhero Queen Bee here to expose Lila Rossi aka Monarchesa for the two faced snake she really is,” Queen Souris beams into Lila’s iPhone camera, releasing a haughty laugh as she jams her stinger a little harder into Lila’s neck, “Shall I order the Dom Perignon now or later? Because I can’t wait to start celebrating when the wrath of stan Twitter comes to cancel you!”

“And is that why you’re working with Lila? To find the other kwamis?”

“Yes and no,” Nooroo’s skin undulates, radiating with dark purple energy, “I needed to find Duusu first. Thank you, by the way.”

“Duusu?” Chat’s head jerks around only to find La Paonne missing,  _ “Merde!” _

Meanwhile, Queen Souris yanks Lila’s head back by the bangs, “Should we play tic tac toe on her forehead? You could land a plane on this thing!”

“Why do you need Duusu?” Ladybug asks, the muscles in her legs bunching with the urge to run. Chat wraps his arm around her on impulse.

“She’s been damaged, like me. And eventually, if we aren’t repaired, the disturbance in the balance of energy will be catastrophic.”

Ladybug’s eyes narrow, “What do you mean, damaged?”

“It’s already started,” Nooroo explains blankly, “Can’t you feel it already?”

Lila’s phone begins to ping in earnest, “We should really get you out of the sunlight,” Queen Souris leers, “I hate the smell of burning plastic.”

“The mortals can’t sense it — not yet, anyway — but the world has been changing. Humanity is changing. You’re more violent. Angry. Emotional. Duusu’s energy has been tainting the human race for three centuries and soon, my powers will start to affect them too.”

Chat bares his teeth, “And by activating the Peacock miraculous—”

“—you only exacerbated it. Gabriel had no idea what he was doing when he and your mother experimented with sentimonsters. The world has never been more chaotic, more loaded with turmoil, and it all originated here in the heart of Paris.”

“But how have you been damaged, Nooroo? Did Lila hurt you?”

“No more than Gabriel,” Nooroo’s thousand yard stare is fathomless, “Evil cannot exist without apathy.”

Chat can feel Plagg’s irritation wash over him like a second skin, “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve only ever been treated with cruelty by humankind, so I’ve decided to take what I’ve learned from a millennia of enslavement and use it.”

“Oh Nooroo,” Ladybug shakes her head, “You don’t have to choose to be this way. Let me help you.”

“I don’t want to be helped,” Nooroo turns towards his paralysed wielder, “In fact, I like having autonomy. This might actually work in my favour.”

“Please, Nooroo,” she pleads, “I can help you. Just come back with me and we can fix you.”

“Humans and your empty promises,” Nooroo shakes his head, the first sign of any sort of emotion from the damaged kwami, “Don’t you remember? I’m a god, Ladybug. I submit to no one.”

The butterfly Miraculous begins to burn in her palm and Ladybug yanks her hand back instinctively, giving Nooroo the chance he’d needed to snatch his brooch in midair and phase through the rooftop. Ladybug immediately dives down over the edge to peer into the windows of the flat beneath them but it’s no use; Nooroo has disappeared without a trace once again.

“Can you believe there are over eighty thousand people watching this livestream right now, Lila? I’ve got designer heels higher than your IQ, bitch! Wait—hey! Where’d she go?!”

Watching in horror as the frozen villainess fades from existence in a violet haze, Chat dashes over to where Queen Souris is crouched and snatches the iPhone from her fingers, positively steaming, “For those of you watching this livestream, this is Chat Noir. Lila Rossi is the terrorist behind Monarchesa. If you see her anywhere, call the police immediately. Chat Noir out.”

~

Twenty minutes later, three very tired superheroes sit on the furniture in Marinette and Adrien’s apartment. There’s not much to say between the three of them; they’ve already aired their grievances as they leapt their way back to the couple’s apartment, scared and angry and every emotion in between.

This is a lot more fucked up than any of them had anticipated.

“Well, at least I ruined Lila’s reputation,” Chloé takes a swig from the bottle of Hennessy she just so happened to have in her Gucci handbag, “So that’s a plus.”

Adrien holds his hand out and Chloé graciously passes the bottle over, “Cancel culture at his finest.”

“Yup.”

Marinette shoves her spoon back into her tub of speculoos Haagen-Dazs, “And then there’s La Paonne.”

Chloé scoffs, “Why was her skin blue, by the way? She looked hideous.”

“More importantly, how did she get a hold of a Miraculous that apparently belonged to my dead mother?”

“We don’t know if she’s dead,” Marinette murmurs around a chunk of caramel biscuit, “She could be in hiding.”

“Or dead,” Adrien bats Chloé’s hand away and takes another gulp of alcohol, “Gabriel didn’t just  _ let _ people go. You saw how he was with me.”

“That doesn’t mean he killed her, Adrien.”

Adrien growls, slotting his arm across Marinette’s shoulders, “Then why didn’t she come back for me?! If she’s ‘in hiding’, like you said, then why isn’t she here?!”

“Adrien, calm down,” Marinette warns, watching their electronics flash and flicker with static all around them, “You’re going to break something.”

“Right,” Adrien closes his eyes and inhales deeply, taking strength from the weight on his side as Marinette rests her cheek on his chest, “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Marinette shovels another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, “But we have to stay level headed right now. Nooroo is back out there with a very defeated Lila. With her reputation destroyed, she has nothing to lose.”

“And if she has nothing to lose…”

“...she’ll stop at nothing to win,” Marinette glances down at the half empty tub in her hands and decides she really couldn’t care less if she finishes it all in one go, “And now that the peacock miraculous is in play, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of Lila.”

“Who’s the brains behind all of this anyway?” Chloé asks, her manicured nails tapping as she scrolls through Twitter, “I thought we were the ones who control the kwamis?”

“It depends,” Adrien shrugs, slouching further into the cushions, “If you have a good relationship with your kwami, then it’s a mutual thing. With Plagg, I don’t have to force anything. I don’t abuse my powers if I can help it. I use what he gives me when we’re transformed and I take care of him when we’re not. It’s a balance, and balance is the most important aspect of being a miraculous user.”

“But when that balance is broken, all sorts of bad things can happen,” Marinette continues, drawing her knees to her chest, “When my powers became unbalanced a few years ago, it made both of us sick. And it didn’t just affect Tikki and I; everyone and everything around us was affected too.”

Chloé hums for a moment, “What’s Nooroo the miraculous of again?”

“Generosity and transmission. He can give a fragment of his power to an akuma. Nooroo lends them his energy, in a way, but usually it’s in exchange for something in return.”

“Sounds like politics. Papa is always making shady deals with people to build his reputation. Money talks when it comes to power.”

“Which is why Nooroo helped Lila build her social media empire.” The cogs in Marinette’s brain begin to churn, “He needed someone with power and influence to help him find Duusu. Lila could have just akumatised people like Gabriel did—”

“—but she hates Gabriel. She wanted to do things her own way.”

“So she decided to use her followers as an army and Nooroo had no choice but to go along with it. He used her hatred of Ladybug to take advantage of her emotions and convince her that she could fight me.”

“And once we knew that Nooroo was back in town, he must have suspected that Tikki and Plagg would try and find him in the kwami dimension.”

“Which is why it didn’t work!” Marinette raises her spoon triumphantly, “He must have fought the spell so they would find the peacock miraculous instead!”

“It did seem weird that he wasn’t upset about Lila getting caught,” Adrien’s blood pressure spikes and Marinette senses it intrinsically, snuggling deeper into his side. It’s a welcome heaviness and one that he desperately needs, “But maybe she was just a pawn in this all along.”

“Not to interrupt the two of you finishing each other's sentences which, by the way, is super gross, but Alec Cataldi just aired the recording I sent to them on the news and the police just found all of the Lila superfans locked inside that conference room at the Shangri-La. Looks like they’re all singing like canaries about how Lila betrayed them.”

“I’m not surprised. All this bad media is going to make it harder for her to hide.”

“And I still have her phone,” Chloé points to the bedazzled, hot pink monstrosity sitting on the coffee table, “So if she posts something with her location on, you two can go kick her ass for good.”

“And find Nooroo.”

“If he’s still with her.”

“He’s definitely still with her,” Marinette scrapes the bottom of her pint for the last few dribbles of ice cream, “She’s still useful to him. Nooroo doesn’t have time to break in a new wielder.”

“Good point,” Adrien takes the empty container and sets it down for her, “Which still leaves us with the person wielding the peacock miraculous.”

“She was at least forty.”

“But you couldn’t really tell though since she was...well. She was blue.”

“ _ Really _ blue.”

“Thank god Tikki didn’t turn me red.”

“They’d call you Lobsterbug.”

Marinette huffs a laugh through her nose, “Either way, it doesn’t exactly narrow things down.”

“Actually,” Chloé pops in, still enraptured in her Twitter feed, “She did mention being a psychiatrist.”

Adrien turns in her direction, “She did?”

“Yep. She said something about never seeing such a narcissistic bitch in all her years as a therapist or something. It was kind of hard to hear since I was still stuffed in her pocket.”

“Female psychiatrist in her forties. Now that does narrow it down,” Marinette’s toes wiggle at the thought of being a little closer to the end of their mystery, “There’s got to be a registry for therapists in Paris somewhere on the internet.”

“Already found it,” Chloé announces, sliding the tip of her finger across her iPhone’s screen with a flourish, “It’s a giant pdf so I shared it on the cloud.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t do it for you, Dupain-Cheng. I did it for Adrien.”

“Sure,” Marinette catches Adrien’s dubious expression and rolls her eyes, “I’m hungry. Do you think the chicken is cold by now?”

“Probably,” Adrien pushes himself to his feet and crosses the space towards the kitchen, “But we also have something else we need to do, remember?”

“Right…” Marinette pales; she’d honestly hoped Adrien had forgotten, “I need to get changed.”

“I’ll go, you stay here and warm up dinner. Chloé, do you want me to walk you down?”

“ _ That _ was subtle,” Chloé intones, stumbling a little as she makes to stand, “Kicking me out much?”

“We have something personal that we need to discuss,” Adrien replies and his voice leaves no room for questioning. Chloé, despite her inflexibility, doesn’t argue.

“Then lead the way, bossybitch.”

“I’ll be back in twenty,” Adrien says, and closes the front door behind him.

~

[ + ]

Blankly, Marinette stares at the little plastic tube in her hands.

“...Marinette?” Tikki hovers just beyond her peripheral vision; the sound of the flush mounted lights in the bathroom hum in her ears.

“How many?”

“Pardon?”

Marinette’s focus doesn’t waver, “How. Many.”

“...babies?” 

“Yes.”

“Um…” The kwami of creation trails off at the straightforwardness of her question, having expected a litany of over the top worst case scenarios instead, “I can’t—”

“You said that your previous holders all had a million babies,” Marinette’s voice remains remarkably calm for a catastrophizer who’s entire life is turning upside down upon itself, “I can’t do that. Not right now. Not like this.”

Tikki’s energy fluctuates for a moment, her blue eyes wide with worry, “Are you okay, Marinette?”

“No,” Marinette sets the test aside and buries her face in her hands, “Is Adrien still outside?”

_ “Yeah,” _ Adrien responds, his voice muffled by the barrier in between them.

Startled, Marinette glares towards the wood, “You can hear me through the door?”

_ “Uh...yeah.” _

“We’re getting a thicker door,” Marinette grumbles.

_ “It’s only because I’m sitting against it.” _

“It’s still weird,” Marinette responds, swallowing against her rising panic, “What if we’re having a party and someone is waiting to use the bathroom and they can hear the person peeing inside? What if someone gets sick? Like, what if we were having a party and you ate something with lactose? The whole party would be ruined because we’d be able to hear you flushing the toilet a thousand times inside the bathroom!”

_ “...uh, Marinette? Can you open the door?” _

“We need to replace the door. We need to replace all the doors! Why didn’t we check the doors when we got the place?! We should have looked into these things like we looked into the leaking window and made the landlord replace it before we moved in!” 

_ “Come on, open the door.” _

“Now we’ve got to go out and find new doors! I don’t have time for this! I have a deadline at work tomorrow and you have the gala coming up soon and—we’ve got to find Lila! What if she escapes?! What if Nooroo finds Duusu?! What if Nooroo and Duusu team up and destroy the world and then we have to find Bunnix to go back in time and change history because we screwed up and didn’t capture him like we should have and now he’s going to break the moon in half and flood Paris and drown everyone!”

_ CRUNCH! _

“And now we’re really going to need a new door,” Adrien hisses, having kicked through the lock with his socked foot. He’s by her side in a second and scoops her up in his arms before she can say anything to the contrary, hoisting her up and out through the busted threshold, “Marinette, deep breaths.”

“No! We’ve got to—Tikki, we’ve got to find Bunnix! We need to go back in time and fix it! We can’t—Nooroo is going to ruin everything and it’s going to be my fault! He’s going to take over with Lila and everything is going to go wrong and I won’t be able to fix it because—”

“Tikki, can you—”

“—I’ll go wake Plagg!”

“—I’m too busy doing a million other things and I’ll be so distracted that he’ll come right from under my nose and hurt everyone I love and try and—oh my god, what if Lila tries to kill you?! I can’t—I can’t do this without you! What if you’re gone and I’m on my own and I—”

_ “Plagg, transforme-moi!” _

“—won’t be able to— _ ” _

_ “Trou noir!” _

“—live withou— _ AHHH!”  _

Disappearing through the floor with a whoosh, Marinette opens her eyes and finds herself floating weightlessly in a dark blanket of constellations of the Milky Way. Screeching, she clings onto Chat’s shoulders and buries her face in the crook of his neck, the change in scenery shocking her speechless.

“Bug, I need you to listen to me for thirty seconds,” Chat wraps her legs around his waist and crosses her ankles at the base of her spine to keep her from floating away, “I know. I get it. Everything is crazy and it feels like your head is going to explode and I...I kind of feel that way too, to be perfectly honest. I don’t really know how to cope with it, but I will. And you will too. We’re going to get through this, one thing at a time.”

“We can’t do anything right now about Lila. We have to trust the police to do their job,” Chat continues, cradling Marinette’s tear stained cheeks in his palms, “And we have to focus on staying healthy and alert because we need to be ready. We can’t waste our energy freaking out and catastrophizing, right? We need to be cool. Calm. Collected. We owe Paris that much.”

“But—”

“Shh,” Chat holds his finger up to her lips, “No buts. You can come up with a thousand different scenarios about how the moon is going to explode but that’s not going to help us find a way to get Nooroo back and find Duusu. You know that. I know that. Tikki knows that, right Tikki?”

The tiny goddess pops up from between Chat’s ears and nods in earnest, clinging onto a lock of hair, “Exactly! The best way to prepare is to focus on your health and wellbeing! If you don’t make yourself a priority and take care of yourself, you’ll only help Nooroo and Lila get the upper hand!”

“See? And now we need to focus on your health more than ever,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Only each and every day,” Marinette breathes, having responded to this exact same question a thousand times over, “Adrien?”

“Yes?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

“I know,” Chat’s eyes soften, “I’m kind of freaking out.”

“Me too.”

“I know,” Chat gestures to the vast expanse of space around them, “But I find I feel better about things when I can just float around and forget about the weight of the world on my shoulders. It’s kind of nice out here, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Marinette leans back and watches in awe as a comet streaks across the sky above their heads, “How long can we stay?”

“Just a few minutes,” Chat braces her against him, his hands stretching across the base of her spine as she arches and reaches towards the distant rings of Saturn, “Plagg gets kind of cranky when I float around for too long.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind, just this once,” Marinette reigns herself back in, finding comfort in his infallible grip as she hugs him against her body, “Thanks for calming me down.”

“You’re welcome,” Chat kisses her cheek, her temple, her jaw, “And whatever happens, I’m here for you. I always will be.”

“Thank you,” Marinette feels tears prickle at the corners of her eyes, “Are we really going to have a baby?”

Chat pulls back and feels his entire chest swell with joy, “Our own little miracle.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Marinette admits, burying her hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, “I wanted to...I thought I’d be married and established before doing the whole babies thing.” 

Chat doesn’t necessarily have a response to that and kisses her instead, parting her lips with a slow sweep of his tongue. He gently tips her head back and deepens their embrace, his joy and happiness tempered by the overwhelming deluge of insanity the universe keeps dumping onto their laps at every given moment. He kisses her like it’s their very last and swallows against the staggering realization that this is the end, in a way. Their entire world has transformed in a blink of an eye; their lives have irrevocably changed course in the span of two weeks.

“I love you,” he whispers against her lips reverently, breathless and scared and elated at the same time.

“I love you too,” Marinette responds quietly, pulling away to stare into his eyes, “We’re going to be okay, right?”

“Right,” Chat nods, wiping the tears slipping down her cheeks, “Actually, we’re going to be better than okay. Do you wanna know why?”

Marinette smiles despite herself, his enthusiasm contagious, “Why?”

“Because we’re Ladybug and Chat Noir,” he explains with a silly grin, “And we were born to kick ass. We’re literally destined to kick ass at everything. Video games? Kick ass. Fashion? Kick ass. Coming up with that super awesome plan to expose Lila? Even more kick ass.”

Giggling, Marinette brings their foreheads together, “It was a pretty good plan.”

“It was a kick ass plan,” Chat chuckles, his grip on her waist tightening, “And we’re gonna be kick ass parents too. Every other parent in the world is going to suck in comparison to our kickassery. It’s basically the law.”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

“But I’m your ridiculous almost-fiancé, if you’ll have me.”

“Always,” Marinette presses her lips to his, “Always and forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a huge plot chapter on my end, and one that sets up the rest of the story. What did you think? And what questions do you have now?


	14. Eat Your Hummus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, everyone! This will be my last update of 2020. Enjoy!

Twenty four hours and approximately sixty four Marinette Meltdowns ™ later, the aforementioned up and coming fashion designer and future mother lies face up on her side of the mattress at two in the morning and comforts herself with the soft snuffling of her partner lying beside her. Adrien — bless him — had put up with everything she’d thrown at him; between the stress from the deadline at work she’d had to complete and the fact that she kept him on the phone for most of the day crying and catastrophizing the entire time…

Well, he was certainly taking it all in stride.

After watching the football game with Tom, Adrien had come home and stuffed her silly with a plate of cheesy pasta huge enough to sink a ship. Despite her own personal chaos, Marinette had managed to eat most of it and Adrien was absolutely delighted, considering pasta is one of only a handful of things he really knows how to cook properly. He mentioned that Sabine was starting to give him cooking lessons so that his beautiful wife-to-be would never go hungry.

“But you didn’t tell them, did you?”

“About the baby?” Adrien had shaken his head, “I think you told me about a million times today that I wasn’t allowed to say a word to anybody.”

“That’s right,” Marinette wrapped her arms around her body, already feeling another panic attack coming on, “I don’t want this getting out yet.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Tikki chimed in from the bowl of fruit sitting on the counter. Marinette glared, having already heard the kwami reassure her at least six dozen times that the moon wouldn’t break in half just because she’d gotten pregnant by mistake.

“I  _ know _ that,” she bit back, ignoring the worried glance Tikki and her partner shared over her shoulder, “But I still don’t want to talk about it yet. It’s too early.”

“But we  _ will _ tell them eventually, right?” Adrien asked and his tone was so painfully hopeful that Marinette felt like tugging her hair out.

She spun around, “Of course. Just...not yet.”

She’d decided the best way to spend the rest of her evening was to pretend like nothing was wrong and Adrien followed suit, arguing with Plagg about Fruits Basket until it felt like all was right in the world again. Tikki played video games with her well into nightfall but eventually, the weight of the day’s stresses began to sit on her shoulders, too heavy to bear.

“Let’s go to bed,” Marinette had said, stifling a yawn. Adrien had accompanied her up to bed and set out her favourite pyjamas while she brushed her teeth. They’d kissed each other goodnight as he tugged the comforter up to their chins and turned off the lights…

...so why was she still awake?

Marinette glances over, tracing his dimly lit silhouette with her eyes. He’s sound asleep and absolutely gorgeous, even with his mouth wide open. He rarely snores unless he’s exhausted and tends to sleep like a particularly handsy octopus, which Marinette usually doesn’t mind. Tonight, for example, he has his hand firmly shoved down the side of her pyjama bottoms, unconsciously anchoring her hip against his.

In fact, Adrien has barely been able to keep his hands to himself for quite a while. It’s not unwelcome, not by any means; the constant hugs and tickles and scratches between the shoulder blades are a welcome balm against the insanity suddenly overtaking their lives. And honestly, he’s always had trouble acknowledging personal boundaries — his awful upbringing aside — but Marinette has this odd thought in the back of her brain that’s reminding her that his behaviour has almost gotten more ridiculous as of late…

What is she even thinking? Marinette rolls her eyes at herself and stares squarely at the ceiling, chiding herself for making up random things once again. Why is her brain always betraying her like this? Why is she always finding connections between things when there  _ are _ no connections between them? Not everything has to happen for a reason, Marinette! She drags her palms across her face. She’s too scared to take any of her anti-anxiety medication now that she’s expecting…which is a whole other can of worms she’s been trying very hard not to think about. She doesn’t want to think about babies and bonnets. She wants to think about taking down Lila Rossi and, even more importantly, trapping Nooroo before he unleashes chaos on the world to stop his plan for good!

And then there’s La Paonne. She doesn’t know how Adrien is managing to keep it together after the appearance of La Paonne but he is, somehow. Since going to therapy, he’s become so much better at handling his emotions, even if they do get away from him occasionally. She wishes she had the time to visit a therapist herself every once and awhile, if only to get some of her worries off her chest, but she’d stopped seeing anyone back when she was still a teenager and mostly had a grip of her serial catastrophizing. She simply didn’t have time to seek help outside of her family these days...

Maybe she’d have to make some time.

It’s not something she wants to think about, her schedule already dancing around in her brain like an out-of-control carousel. The song from Level 37 of Mecha Strike V is repeating over and over again between her ears and, between tomorrow’s fashion launch at Colette Paris and the fabric order she needs to finalize with Christine tomorrow, Marinette’s thoughts are utterly consumed.

She closes her eyes but the stream of worries doesn’t end for quite a while yet.

~

A body pillow arrives on their doorstep the following afternoon, along with a copy of ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’; individually labelled snack packs appear in her work bag, filled with dried fruits and roasted nuts. When she returns from the design office, she discovers that he’s filled every vase they own with freshly cut roses and practically vibrates every time she notices one of his “hidden” bouquets, following her around the apartment like a puppy until she finds each and every one.

“I love them,” Marinette says, punctuating her appreciation with a kiss on the cheek, “But isn’t this a bit...much?”

“Nothing is too much where you’re concerned,” Adrien responds, running his palms down the length of her arms so as to tangle his fingers with hers, “No expense will be spared. You deserve only the very best.”

Marinette shakes her head fondly, “You’re such a romantic.”

“That’s because I’m in love with a beautiful woman,” he smiles and spins her around until her back is pressed along his chest, anchoring her against him. Swaying to the drone of the refrigerator, his hands slowly drift down towards her ribs, “She’s the most ambitious, determined, most courageous woman on the entire planet. And did I mention she’s a snacc?”

Adrien bends down and runs the edge of his teeth along the muscle between her neck and shoulders, earning a gasp from Marinette as he gently bites down, “And when I think about her and our future marriage and the fourteen babies we’re gonna have—”

“—I am  _ not _ having fourteen babies!”

“Fine, thirteen babies,” Adrien laughs as she reaches around to try and swat him, “I think about how much I love her and how much I care about her and how much I never ever want to see something bad happen to her. I just want to spoil her for the rest of my life. I want to massage her shoulders and bring her flowers and cook her dinner every night until we’re a hundred years old.”

She’s gone from laughing to almost crying in an instant, “Adrien…”

“I’m serious,” Adrien leaves a trail of kisses up her neck, “She’s the best almost-wife ever. You’d love her if you met her. She’s hard-working, tenacious, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous. Seriously, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but she’s also  _ smoking _ hot. She’s got legs that go on for  _ days _ —”

“Alright, alright,” Marinette snorts, spinning around in his embrace, “Something tells me that this is the heat talking.”

“Well, not  _ only,” _ Adrien replies sheepishly, gritting his teeth as she purposely rubs against the tent in his trousers, “I came into this with perfectly innocent intentions, but then I started thinking about you being pregnant with my baby and surprise! Apparently, I have a new kink.”

Marinette smacks her palms over her eyes and shakes her head, “At least now we know why our heats are out of sync.”

“’Cause I put a bun in the oven!” Adrien sing-songs, spontaneously breaking out into a samba, “When are we telling your parents, by the way? I want to put an actual bun in the oven and make them open the door!”

“After I’ve gone to the doctor,” Marinette replies, smiling despite her worries as Adrien continues to slide and shimmy across the hardwood, “She’ll be able to tell me how far along I am.”

“Let me know what day you book and I’ll come with you,” Adrien bends his knees and rolls his hips in concentric circles, still grooving to an inaudible beat, “I legitimately can’t stop dancing. It’s impossible. Sign me up for France’s Got Talent, I’m going to  _ win.” _

Marinette bursts into laughter, “Please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Do you ever just feel like the luckiest girl in the world?” Adrien begins to wriggle his ass in earnest, “I mean, do you ever just look at me dancing like this and think ‘yup, I won the lottery’?”

“Every day,” she says between snickers, leading him back into the kitchen, “Come on, I’m starving.”

“Oh!” Adrien runs ahead of her and ducks into the fridge, “I picked up some more ice cream for you. I know you’ve become kind of addicted.”

Marinette grimaces, “My sweet tooth is out of control.”

“I wonder if it’s a Ladybug thing,” Adrien hums for a moment before pulling out a few different spreads he’d picked up near la _ Place des Vosges _ , “You know, since Tikki is also obsessed with sugar and all that.”

“Hey, Tikki!” Marinette hollers, facing up at the ceiling. The kwami phases through the plaster a moment later, “Is that true?”

“Is what true?” Tikki floats downwards and rests on the crown of Adrien’s head — a familiar spot for both kwamis — as Adrien begins hacking through a Dupain-Cheng baguette with a serrated knife.

“Are you the reason I can’t stop eating everything sugary in sight?”

Tikki claps her hands with excitement, “Of course it is!”

Frowning, Marinette plants her hands on her hips, “Why does it feel like I get all the weird side effects?”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Adrien shrugs, “At least you don’t smell like cheese all the time.”

“But why does it have to be me?” Marinette sighs and hefts herself up onto the countertop, “It rains when I’m angry. I flood cities when I’m sick. Remember last year when I caught the flu and the banks of the Seine went up two metres?”

“I literally destroy things when I’m even a little inconvenienced,” Adrien deadpans over his shoulder, “Did you really think I wouldn’t figure out that it was  _ me _ who busted the Métro way back when?”

Marinette grimaces, “I…..oops.”

“Sabine mentioned it one day, probably by accident. I pretended I didn’t hear her but I did,” Adrien slaps the knife against the magnetic storage bar mounted on the wall and sighs, “So yeah, I may not eat my weight in chocolate every day but at least you don’t destroy the infrastructure.”

“Point taken,” Marinette pointedly looks at the lids of the spreads she’s removing and sets them aside, feeling a bit silly for complaining. She decides to change the subject, “Did you get a chance to look over the list of therapists Chloé sent us?”

“I did,” Adrien says, sliding the sliced baguette onto a platter, “And we narrowed it down to about seventy people.”

“That’s still a lot.”

“I know. But it’s all we have so far. I wish I could tell you more.”

“It’s fine,” Marinette sets the spreads down beside the bread in order of texture and plucks a sprig of basil from the top of their kitchen herb planter to put on the hummus, “And nothing from Lila either?”

“Nothing,” Adrien confirms, plopping a spoon into each of the containers, “It’s like she fell off the edge of the earth.”

“She’s planning something…” Marinette hums, her socked heels clunking against the cupboard, “No social media at all?”

“Chloé said that her Instagram has been deleted for breaking their terms and agreements,” Adrien says with a soft chuckle, “But that’s about it.”

“Well...I guess no news is good news.”

“For now.”

Marinette bites her bottom lip, “Is that the garlicky hummus from El Din’s?”

“It is,” Adrien smothers some of the aforementioned hummus onto a baguette. He holds it up for her to take a bite and she gnaws into it, groaning with enjoyment, “I figured it was time to feed you something healthy for a change.”

“Mmm, I love you,” Marinette holds him by the wrist and shoves the rest of the baguette into her mouth, inadvertently licking his fingers along with it. Adrien’s entire body stiffens at the sensation, his pupils blowing wide as Marinette continues to moan about her favourite Lebanese restaurant like his heat didn’t just kick into overdrive.

“Bug?”

“Mmm, gimme a minute,” Marinette responds with her mouth full and bends over to dollop more hummus onto another slice of bread, “God, remember the last time we went to El Din’s and you ate like, three helpings of tabülè because you thought it was the greatest thing in the world?”

Adrien stands there about as patiently as one can when one’s hormones are telling you to start humping the nearest object, regardless of sentience, “Yeppp.” 

“If you could put this stuff in a piping bag and just squeeze it into my mouth, that would be great,” Marinette laughs and goes in for her third slice, “Don’t you want some? Here.”

“Alright, I need to be honest here,” Adrien steadies her hand and finally draws her attention back in his direction, “You just licked my fingers and we need to fuck right now.”

Marinette stares at him in shock before bursting into laughter, “Seriously?”

“This is no laughing matter,” Adrien grabs her by the waist and gently sets her back on the floor. He unbuttons her trousers and shoves them and her panties all down in one go before spinning her around to face the countertop she’d just been sitting on, “The heat is killing me and I know you’re only kind of horny right now but I am super fucking horny and I’m just—look, you can just eat your hummus alright? Don’t mind me.”

Marinette rests her elbows against the countertop and glances behind her, still laughing away, “Be my guest. You’re going to have to warm me up a little though.”

“I can do that,” Adrien replies breathlessly, unbuckling his belt and kicking off the Gucci jeans Marinette had lovingly embroidered with kitten paws, “Keep eating though, hummus is good for you. It contains essential vitamins and minerals.”

“Alright, Docteur Chaton,” Marinette spreads her legs to give him better access and gasps as he trails his fingers up her inner thighs, “Having sex is safe to do, right?”

Adrien gently toys with her, his touch featherlight against her folds, “Totally. Unlike you, I did the readings.”

“That book just came this morning and I’ve been at work all day,” Marinette lets her head droop as Adrien finally brushes his fingertips against her clit and retreats just as quickly as he came, “Don’t tell me you’ve already read it. It’s over 600 pages!”

“I’m about a third of the way through,” Adrien replies, fishing his cock out of his briefs with his free hand, “I needed to know what supplements to order. And whether you can still keep drinking coffee.”

“You can pry my coffee from my cold, dead hands.”

“A cup a day is fine,” he reassures her, “No more soft cheeses though.”

“I can deal with that,” Marinette grabs the spreading knife from the tub of hummus and licks it clean, “God, that’s good.”

“You’re gonna be even better in a minute,” Adrien grumbles, dipping his index finger inside of her only to find that she’s already growing wet. He doubles down on his efforts and begins circling her clit insistently, pausing only to check her arousal and give his wrist a break, “How’s this?”

“Fine,” Marinette arches her back and chomps on a slice of baguette impatiently, “Well? Hurry up before I start double dipping.”

“I don’t care if you double dip,” Adrien drags the tip of his cock back and forth between her folds, driving them both a little crazy. He thrusts up against her clit and hisses at the sensation, “ _ Mes microbes, vos microbes. _ ” 

“Sexy,” Marinette grimaces but scoops some more hummus into her mouth regardless and closes her eyes as Adrien continues to coat his cock with her arousal, “Stop teasing.”

“It feels good,” he mutters but acquiesce nonetheless, guiding himself inside of her. It feels incredible and Adrien lets out a soft groan as he wraps his hands around her waist and draws her as near to him as he can without pulling too hard. Just having his palm pressed against her belly is enough to make his cock twitch, the desire to claim her for all the world to see taking over his thoughts, “Much better.”

Marinette shifts her hips and smirks as Adrien mewls in her ear, “Alright kitty, think you can come before I finish this entire tub?”

“Is that— _ ah! _ —a challenge?”

“It most definitely is,” Marinette teases, purposely squeezing her muscles to try and get him to keep moving. It has the desired effect and without further ado, Adrien begins rutting into her from behind. He’s rubbing just the right spot inside of her and the sounds of their lovemaking fill their kitchen, the slide and the slap of skin music to their ears as Marinette keeps on snacking. She’s distracted though, the tension building at the apex of her thighs and eventually gives up altogether, bracing her forehead on her lower arms and rising up onto her toes.

“I love you,” Adrien growls into her ear as he buries his fingers between her legs again and continues to torture her, “And I just want to— _ oh god _ —make love to you every hour of every day. I need you.”

Marinette groans, the low tenure of his voice doing all sorts of things to her insides, “I need you too,  _ Chaton _ .”

“I need you more,” he draws the lobe of her ear between his teeth and tugs, “Everytime I close my eyes, all I can think about is you.”

“Mmmm…” Marinette loves the way he babbles sometimes when he’s lost in the throes of their heat, “Tell me more.”

“I keep…” he trails off and Marinette can tell he’s close, “I keep thinking about us together. We’re married and we have kids and it’s...it’s perfect.”

Her face flushes as his breath ghosts along the shell of her ear, her heart racing in her chest, “Y-yeah?”

“You’re a famous designer and I’m a stay-at-home dad,” Adrien continues, his thrusts beginning to stutter, “And we’re happy. Really happy.”

“I’d like that,” Marinette’s breath catches in her throat as the fingers of Adrien’s free hand splay against her lower belly, the heat of his palm igniting something inside of her. She bites her lip and closes her eyes and stops fighting the waves of pleasure that build with every swipe of her clit, “Adrien,  _ please _ .”

He doesn’t let up for a second, his rhythm only increasing with every raspy breath, “You’re mine. Always.”

“Yes,” Marinette draws the word out with a hiss, heat radiating from his possessive touch on her skin. He leans back and skims his teeth against the back of her neck like a warning, nibbling lightly like he simply can’t help himself.

“I want— _ mmm fuck _ —I want everyone to know it,” Adrien bites down a little harder and the contrast of pleasure and pain surges down her spine like a bolt of lightning. She can feel herself cresting, her muscles tensing as he swipes his tongue across her skin in apology before doing it all over again, “I want them to look at you and  _ know _ .”

His cock drives into her at the same grueling tempo as his fingers on her clit, “Adrien…”

“You’re gonna have my ring on your finger,” he moans into her ear and flicks her Miraculous with his tongue, “And we’re gonna— _ ah! _ —be a family…”

He trails off, unable to articulate anything beyond completion. That heat addled desire to  _ breed _ her burns uncontrollably inside of him, greedy and selfish and hungry with the need to make her his and his alone. He’s never felt this heady with it, completely overwhelmed by the intensity of his insatiable appetite to wrap her in his arms and keep her there forever. She is  _ his _ ! No one can touch her, no one can harm her…

...and should they try to, he won’t hesitate to rip out their throats.

That very thought pushes him over the edge and she falls soon after, lost in the haze of the possessive words he’d inadvertently growled in her ear. 

~

“Well? How do I look?”

Dressed to the nines in a gown of her own creation, Marinette swears she sees his eyes flash neon green, “Delicious. I can’t wait to take it off.”

“We have to get through your foundation’s Easter Gala first,” Marinette bats his hands away and he eventually settles with kissing a trail up her neck, “And I think we’re going to be so tired by the end of it that—”

“—after looking at you in that dress all night?” Adrien interrupts, burying his nose at the base of her neck, “We’ll be lucky if we make it back here. Maybe I’ll just book us a room at Le Grand Paris.”

“You better not act like this all night,” Marinette chides him, his words and actions already sending shivers down her spine, “There are going to be cameras and important people around.”

“I don’t know what it is but I’m just...really obsessed with you right now,” Adrien says with a chuckle, inhaling the scent of her skin, “Is that normal?”

“For you? Yes,” Marinette bats him off and turns around to straighten his bowtie, “You’ve always liked to get in my personal bubble.”

“I guess,” Adrien runs his fingers through his hair sheepishly, “Maybe I’m just nervous.”

“For the event?  _ Mon matou _ ,” Marinette coos and gently bops him on the nose, “You’ve hosted a ton of these events!”

“Twelve, actually. And they always stress me out.”

“Well then, how about I sweeten the deal?”

Adrien’s eyebrows raise past his bangs, “Colour me intrigued.”

“If we get through this in one piece, I’ll let you open the package that’s hiding in the kitchen.”

“What’s inside?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Marinette smirks, “But it was by your personal request.”

Adrien’s jaw drops,  _ “No way.” _

“Yes way,” Marinette brushes her hands over his broad shoulders and envisions what they’ll look like when she uses their new toy, moaning and crying out in a way she’s never heard him before, “I did a bit of research on it. We won’t be able to use it tonight because we’ll be getting home so late, obviously, but maybe if we make a plan, we could try it out tomorrow.”

Adrien suddenly feels very dizzy, _ “Oh god.” _

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Marinette steps away from him and drinks in his flushed cheeks and lidded eyes, “That’s only if you do well tonight. Are you going to behave?”

“Yes, M’Lady,” he straightens his shoulders, his gaze absolutely smouldering, “Your wish is my command.”

“Good boy,” Marinette winks and turns towards the door, “Come on, our Uber should be here any second.”

~

The ride over is fairly quick for a Saturday, but the nature of Adrien’s schedule requires him to be present at the event a few hours before the actual start time. In any case, missing rush hour traffic is a blessing Adrien is more than thankful for, considering the overwhelmingly intoxicating scent of Marinette’s perfume.

“Are you sure you didn’t change anything? I swear, it smells like you’re wearing Guerlain.”

“How do you  _ do  _ that?”

“What? I was the face of a perfume for years, I practically know the difference between them all.”

“Well, I haven’t changed a thing. All you’re smelling is my shampoo and my usual perfume.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien nearly smothers himself with her neck, smushing his nose into her hairline, “I smell....vanilla. Lavender. Musk.”

Marinette shivers, “We’re in an Uber, Adrien.”

“I’m just smelling you,” Adrien responds defensively, oblivious to the alarmed look the Uber driver gives Marinette through the rear view mirror.

“It’s weird and I need you to stop.”

“Alright alright,” Adrien concedes, knowing full well that no means no (because he’s not an asshole). He pulls his mobile out of his pocket and scrolls through Instagram for lack of anything better to do, if only to keep his hands off of his almost-fiancée. He doesn’t like the way this woman keeps glancing back at the two of them through the mirror; what is she looking at Marinette so intently for? No one should even  _ look _ at her without her express consent!

“Chaton?” Marinette whispers, her eyes wide with concern. Adrien meets her glance and blinks slowly, unable to discern her expression, “Can you turn it down a little?”

“Huh?”

“You’re growling,” she prods him in the chest with a manicured finger, “And if you don’t stop right now, I’m going to lose my 4.9 star rating because of you.”

“Ah,” Adrien swallows, forcing down the vibrations he hadn’t realised he’d been creating in the first place. He isn’t usually able to draw a purr — let alone a growl — from his chest unless he’s well and fully aroused and ready to pounce on some pussy, pardon the pun.

“Yepp,” Marinette’s lips pop with emphasis and Adrien just wants to capture them in a wrenching kiss, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you today.”

“Nerves, like I said,” Adrien responds a little blankly, wondering the same damn thing himself.

~

“Ladies and gentlemen, distinguished delegates, ambassadors and friends, welcome to the 3rd Annual Agreste Foundation Easter Gala!”

Standing at the podium in front of a sea of people, Adrien Agreste makes one of his rare appearances as the face of his philanthropic organization. Usually, he leaves the press to his alter ego, but on certain nights where the exchange of funds is more important than ever for the hospital for sick children, he plays his dutiful role.

“First, I would like to thank everyone for gathering here this evening to honour this incredible collaboration between Paris’ most generous citizens. In fact, I don’t think there’s a better place in the entire world than the city of Paris to host such an important event. Home to hundreds of charities that do amazing work for the people of our community, Paris is truly one of the world’s most inspirational venues to spark change and unify our efforts to find new cures and to provide world-class care.”

“I want to take this opportunity to highlight some of the Agreste Foundation’s greatest milestones and achievements over the past three years. This organization started from humble beginnings. Initially, it was a small collaboration between a few friends, but eventually, it grew to become a much larger charitable organization and since its inception, the Agreste Foundation has raised over 35 million Euros towards building a brand new children’s hospital in the heart of Paris!”

Adrien waits for the round of applause to wane before continuing his speech, “Unfortunately, we still haven’t quite reached the place that we need to be. We’re still fighting against outdated spaces in our old hospital, some of which don’t even meet the modern building codes. Right now, some of our most vulnerable patients are crammed into overcrowded rooms. We just don’t have the means to keep delivering world class health care, which is where you come in. Starting tonight, we are kicking off the biggest fundraising campaign in history! Tonight, we’re going to make sure that we break ground by next year!”

“Paris is the beating heart of our nation. It’s here that we prove our commitment to the thousands of children who need our help to get better. There’s never been a better time than right now to donate so we can build a state-of-the-art hospital together. Suffice to say that I am incredibly honoured and proud to be at the head of this organization and I hope that you are just as excited to be here as I am. I want to thank my COO, Chloé Bourgeois, for her unwavering support and my friend and co-CEO Chat Noir, who will be joining us later this evening. I also want to thank the rest of my team for their readiness to collaborate and share in our fight and our goals to people all around the world.”

“Generous donors, I would like to thank each and everyone of you again for your contributions and your attendance here at the Agreste Foundation Easter Gala. Please take the time to visit the exhibit to the left of the ballroom to honour some of the remarkable achievements over the last few years. I also invite you to enjoy the enormous chocolate fountain brought to you by one of the best chocolatiers in Paris,  _ Aimée Chocolat _ ! And finally, I would like to welcome you to a wonderful evening of togetherness, philanthropy and compassion. Enjoy!”

Adrien steps away from the platform and breathes a heavy sigh of relief before leaving the stage altogether and hiding behind a pillar. Chloé follows him over and shoves a glass of champagne in his hand with express orders to chug, “Well, you weren’t terrible.”

“Gee thanks,” Adrien wipes his lips with the back of his jacket’s sleeve and slides the empty flute onto the nearest flat surface, “I hate public speaking.”

Chloé rolls her eyes and hands him an éclair, well and truly versed in Adrien’s post-speech compulsion for sugar and alcohol, “Look, it was fine. Trust me, my tweaks made it ten times better.”

“Of course they did,” he responds flatly, shoving the hors d’oeuvre sized pastry into his mouth all at once, “You always know just what to say.”

“I know,” Chloé flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and Adrien honestly doesn’t know if she understood that he was being sarcastic, “I’m kind of an expert in people. It’s what I do.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And anyway, it’s not like you’re bad at being the poster boy. I mean, you used to do it for a living.”

“Because I was  _ forced _ to.”

“By France’s most hated asshole, I get it. But still, everytime you show off that pretty face of yours, people start signing cheques.”

“...did you just call me pretty?”

Chloé scoffs, “I wouldn’t hang out with you if you weren’t.”

“Typical,” Adrien shakes his head and laughs, “You’re only keeping me around for my looks.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Adrichou,” Chloé evades the question easily, her lawyer’s education coming into play, “Now, I know how much of a hit you are with the older ladies, so go and mingle. Be cute. Get cash.”

“Be cute, get cash...I’m gonna stick that on my business card.”

“Not if I put a copyright on it first.”

“You can’t copyright everything, Chloé,” Adrien jabs his thumb towards the exhibit on the left hand side of the ballroom, “I think Joséphine might be over her head by the looks of things over there. Maybe you can check in on her?”

Chloé peers over and narrows her eyes, “Ugh! I leave for three seconds and the entire thing falls apart. What would anybody here do without me?!”

And with that, Chloé storms over and leaves Adrien in a moment of blessed solitude. He takes the opportunity to prod his breast pocket and tip his chin downwards as if he were glancing at his phone.

“Plagg, does something feel...off to you?”

Surprisingly, the little lump actually responds to him, “Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s not just me,” Adrien glances around and spots Marinette across the room by the chocolate fountain, “We’ve got to see if Tikki senses something too. I’ll go and grab h—”

Suddenly, the light of the chandeliers flickers rapidly before going out altogether. The emergency lights kick on within seconds, casting a low, red hue over the space and Adrien immediately knows something is about to go wrong. A vibration begins to wallow beneath their feet and the pendant lights creak and sway, shuddering to the same rhythm of the marble floor.

At first, no one moves. Time is frozen and everyone simply stops and glances all around them, their eyes wide and feet ready. Parisians young and old are trained and are built for avoiding danger at all costs. They’ve spent years running away from akumas and with one loud shout of evacuation from the security detail, the entire ballroom begins to empty out into the lobby and the fire exits towards the streets.

Adrien fights through the crowds, “Marinette! Marinette, where are you?!”

“Right here,” Marinette snags him by the collar and drags him over to the shelter of the stage, “This feels weird.”

“I know,” Adrien’s skin prickles with goosebumps, “I don’t think this is just a power outage.”

“I wish I had brought some of the other Miraculouses with me,” Marinette keeps her eyes peeled on the windows and doors as the guests continue to file out of the room, “I thought about it, but then I figured things would be fine…”

“Come on, let’s regroup in the kitchen,” Adrien takes Marinette by the hand and steers her through the masses, “Once we’re out of sight, we can check social media and see what’s going on.”

“And transform if we have to,” Marinette follows him through the swinging doors and nudges them shut with her heel, “People are going to be looking for you and I’d rather not blow our cover. I can go out—”

“Not a chance,” Adrien cuts her off before she can finish, “You don’t get to put yourself in the line of danger anymore without me.”

“Adrien—”

“ _ No. _ And that’s final.”

Marinette frowns, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being  _ safe _ ,” Adrien bites back, taking out his mobile, “Chloé’s calling me. Yeah?”

_ “Where are you?” _

“In the kitchen. Where are you?”

_ “In the lobby. Someone cut the power to the whole building.” _

“It has to be Lila,” Adrien growls, “But how did she know we were here?”

_ “It’s an Agreste Foundation gala. Chat Noir and Ladybug always show up.” _

“Then why didn’t she wait? We haven’t officially arrived.”

_ “She doesn’t know that. She’s a fugitive, remember? She can’t just waltz in.” _

“True,” Adrien watches as Marinette transforms out of caution and peeks through the circular windows on the kitchen doors, “Do you see anything?”

“Nothing yet,” Ladybug responds, “She’s probably outside looking for us.”

“Maybe she’s testing us.”

_ “If you don’t come from the outside, she’ll know you were already inside.” _

“And that narrows down our identities. She must be onto us.”

“The only way we’re going to end this is if we draw her out,” Ladybug says, turning back towards him, “We can’t risk having her figure out who we are. This has to end tonight.”

_ “I’ve already called the police,” _ Chloé adds,  _ “They should be here any second so if that bitch shows her ugly face—” _

**_BOOM!_ **

Ladybug screams and jumps back from the door just as the building shakes violently, smashing glass and tossing the pots and pans off their shelves. Adrien throws himself at Ladybug and hauls her under the closest metal prep table, shielding them both from the vinyl tiles that tumble down from the ceiling. The emergency lights flicker before stabilizing, letting them both soak in the sudden damage all around them.

“Was that a bomb?” Ladybug asks, turning onto her hands and knees.

“I have no idea,” Adrien responds, checking her over briefly before feeling around for his now shattered iPhone, “Chloé! Are you alright?”

_ “What the fuck was that?!” _

“I don’t know,” Adrien murmurs into the receiver, his fingers firmly wrapped around Ladybug’s wrist, “Come on, we need to get out of here. It’s not safe—”

As if on cue, a plume of bright purple smoke explodes from inside the ballroom.

**_“I BET YOU THOUGHT YOU SAW THE LAST OF ME, BITCH!”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! The final Lila showdown has begun! 
> 
> Also, here's a little hint as to what's to come. Many moons ago, I wrote my most successful story, Sommeil. People begged for me to write this one particular aspect of Chat again and I, a merciful writer, finally conceded. So we'll get an eyeful of this delicious trope next chapter!
> 
> Happy Holidays! Leave a comment if you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the prologue! It's just a taste of the ongoing conflict our characters are going to face. And worry not, the smut is coming. This is porn _with_ plot after all.
> 
> Leave a comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
